


the light through the windowpane

by underwaternow



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Future Fic, Getting Back Together, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 19:20:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 29,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16666741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underwaternow/pseuds/underwaternow
Summary: It still probably wouldn’t have amounted to anything besides Tyson’s own personal suffering if it wasn’t for the game against the Blues a week later. Brayden drops his gloves before the puck even hits the ice, and after an extremely shitty loss Gabe corners Tyson once the media has left the room, as he’s shoving his helmet back into his bag.or, the one where Gabe and Tyson fall in love, break up, Gabe gets married, Tyson falls apart a little, they don't speak to each other for awhile, and then they finally make up. colloquially referred to as “sad fic” but there's very much a happy endingor, the one that's “about” “Gabe and Tyson” but is really Tyson's story





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so — here we go. this fic has been in the works since february, which i can hardly believe, and i’m so excited that it’s finally ready to share. thank you/how could you to britta, who messaged me the day after the avs played the blues and gabe and brayden schenn fought immediately after the puck dropped to ruin my life with what was the original, no happy ending version of this. i screamed at her and demanded she make it happier, and most of what she came up with exists in this finished fic, so really it’s just as much hers as mine. thank you, thank you, thank you.
> 
> thank you also to brenna, who let me talk her ear off about this story and read it in its final form before i unleashed it to the world and told me where it needed something more and helped me make it the best story it could possibly be. thank you for telling me about every part that made you cry and for listening to my endless feelings about tyson.
> 
> i don’t usually bother including disclaimers in my author’s notes because i think it goes without saying that rpf is pretend, but given some of the subject matter and extent to which i borrowed real life details, i want to make a point to say how extremely fake and made up this all is, that i absolutely do not mean to imply anything about these real people or their real relationships with each other, and that none of this is intended as slander against gabe, who i do not really believe would act the way the gabe in this fic does.
> 
> the title is from richard siken’s poem “[scheherazade](http://youngerpoets.yupnet.org/2008/04/22/scheherazade-crush-by-richard-siken/).” 
> 
> finally, thank you to all of you guys, for being here and reading and loving these nightmares with me. this is for you — i hope you like it as much as i do.

The cream-colored envelope feels like a brick in Tyson’s hands, and they shake a little as he opens it. He scans the bland calligraphy font and tries not to throw up. It doesn’t seem real that Gabe is getting married in July, barely a year and a half after he broke up with Tyson out of nowhere, but here’s the proof, right in his hands, asking if he wants chicken or fish and if he’ll be bringing a plus one.

Tyson throws the card on the floor. It flutters delicately through the air, coming to a graceful rest two inches from his foot. It’s incredibly unsatisfying. Being in love with your ex-boyfriend is also incredibly unsatisfying; maybe that’s just Tyson’s luck.

It still probably wouldn’t have amounted to anything besides Tyson’s own personal suffering if it wasn’t for the game against the Blues a week later. When he meets Brayden for dinner after landing in St. Louis, the first words out of Brayden’s mouth after they say hello are “so I heard the invitations really went out. That asshole,” and the evening kind of goes downhill from there. The next night, Brayden drops his gloves before the puck even hits the ice, and after an extremely shitty loss Gabe corners Tyson once the media has left the room, as he’s shoving his helmet back into his bag.

“What the hell was that?”

“What are you talking about?” Tyson asks, tired. There’s already a faint purple bruise under Gabe’s eye that he’s icing, and he’s sweaty and red-faced and, as usual, has no business looking as good as he does. Tyson would really rather not.

“Why did Schenn come after me?” Gabe spits.

“How the fuck would I know?” Tyson lies. “Ask him yourself, Jesus.”

Gabe takes a deep breath, and Tyson can see him composing himself. “Tyson. Is this about the wedding invitations?”

“No,” Tyson snaps, and this time he knows that Gabe knows he’s lying; he can see it all over Gabe’s big stupid face. “Mind your own business.”

Gabe hesitates, adjusts the bag of ice on his face and then exhales loudly. “Fine. Be that way.”

“I will!” Tyson yells as Gabe heads back across the room. Next to him, Nate is shaking his head sadly. Tyson ignores him.

 

-

 

It’s after midnight on a Thursday a few weeks later; they have an 11 AM practice the next day but otherwise are off and so Tyson is deep in a late night HGTV programming spiral when his phone vibrates on the coffee table. He can see from where he’s sunken into a heap of throw pillows that it’s Gabe’s name on the text notification. He ignores it; he’s working on “boundaries” and “respecting himself,” which were EJ’s words as Nate nodded next to him like a bobblehead, like EJ isn’t totally biased toward Gabe anyway. Still. He’s trying, is the point, and so he ignores the message.

Five minutes later, his phone lights up with a second notification, and thirty seconds after that the doorbell rings. 

_that better not be you at my door_ , Tyson sends to Gabe, not bothering to look at the messages he sent first.

 _Just answer it_ , he gets back, which is so fucking typical.

 _i can’t stand you i swear to god_ , Tyson replies, but he’s swinging his feet onto the floor and standing up and only half means it, which is the entire fucking problem.

“What?” he asks, once he opens the door and lets Gabe in and doesn’t stare at the way Gabe’s navy jacket is making his eyes look bluer than usual, or the way his cheeks and nose are pink from the cold. Tyson is stronger than that.

“I wanted to talk,” Gabe says hesitantly, and that’s when Tyson notices he seems fidgety, nervous and jumpy and maybe even a little upset. He’s shifting his weight from one foot to another, not making eye contact, chewing on his bottom lip. 

“Okay,” Tyson says, because Gabe might be his ex and he might still be totally in love with him, and for those reasons this is probably a really bad idea, but. Gabe is also his friend, no matter how hard it’s been lately, and he looks small, hunched in on himself in Tyson’s foyer. Tyson isn’t going to tell him no. “You wanna come in?”

Gabe follows him wordlessly back into the family room, just stands there awkwardly as Tyson digs the remote out from between the couch cushions and mutes the show about people who get to buy their dream home after winning the lottery - which he actually really likes, and it looks like an episode he hasn’t seen, so this better be good - and then haltingly clears his throat. 

Then he still doesn’t say anything, and Tyson sighs and sits down in his pillow fortress to wait him out. 

“I think I’m making a mistake,” Gabe finally says. He still won’t make eye contact. “With the wedding.”

“Oh, no,” Tyson says immediately. “No. I’m not doing this, Gabe.”

“Please,” Gabe says, and now he sits down on the couch next to Tyson, leans in a little and makes eye contact. “Just hear me out, okay?”

When Tyson doesn’t say anything, because none of his options here are all that palatable, Gabe takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, and then says carefully, “I’ve been questioning whether I actually love her. I don’t… I don’t think I do.”

Tyson keeps his voice as even and neutral as possible when he says, “Why not?”

“Because I’m still in love with you,” Gabe says. “I-I know that’s really bad timing, and probably kind of - you know, it’s my own fault we aren’t together anymore.”

Tyson scoffs so aggressively it actually kind of hurts. He clears his throat. “You think?”

“I know,” Gabe says, voice cracking. He sounds like he’s in pain. “For awhile I thought, okay, I’m just not over him but I do love her too and I’m happy and - ” He breaks off, sighs very deeply. “I’m not. I don’t know if I love her or not.”

“So what do you want from me?” Tyson asks, as blunt as he can force himself to be. 

“I… Tys,” Gabe says quietly, and when Tyson turns his head to look at him Gabe is right there, pushing his way back into Tyson’s space, back into his stupid heart, not that Tyson was ever really able to get him out of there. Gabe reaches out, traces his fingers over the side of Tyson’s neck, and Tyson knows he should make him stop. He absolutely should. He’s totally going to.

Then Gabe kisses him, and every traitorous cell in Tyson’s body electrifies. Tyson knows there’s no possible way he’s going to be able to be the one to end this. 

Gabe pushes him carefully backward into his pillow nest, settling himself on top of Tyson and kissing him slow and deep in the way Tyson refused to let himself miss. Tyson digs his fingers into Gabe’s hair and Gabe shudders a little, and pretty much every last shred of rational thought in Tyson’s brain flies out the window. 

“I love you,” Gabe pants after a few minutes, resting his forehead against Tyson’s cheekbone briefly. He lifts his head back up, pushes himself up a little and starts to fumble with the drawstring of Tyson’s sweats. Tyson leans up and kisses him again rather than say it back, yanks Gabe’s shirt out of his pants and shoves his pants down far enough to get his cock out. 

Gabe moans when Tyson gets a hand around him, his eyes closing and his stupid obscene pink mouth dropping open, and for a brief second Tyson really wants to punch him. It’s not fair, that he be so fucking gorgeous when Tyson is still totally in love with him. But then Gabe gathers himself enough to get Tyson’s pants down too, to cup one giant hand over Tyson’s dick before starting to gently but still just a little roughly jerk him off, and it’s way too easy to forget about being mad at him. 

“Fuck,” Tyson mutters when Gabe lets go, just for a second, to spit in his hand and pull Tyson’s wrist away and take them both into one hand together.

“C’mon, you’re so hot,” Gabe gasps against Tyson’s cheek, and Tyson can’t help the way his hips jerk helplessly, the way he fucks into Gabe’s hand. Gabe grips him a little tighter, drags his open mouth over Tyson’s jaw and mutters a few choice, filthy words of encouragement in Tyson’s ear. 

“I can’t - _stand_ you,” Tyson snaps, his stomach tightening, every one of his senses totally overwhelmed by Gabe. “I swear to god, Gabe, you’re so - ”

“Yeah,” Gabe says, his voice low and sexy and completely unfuckingcalled for in Tyson’s ear. “Go ahead, tell me what I am.”

Tyson tenses up and whimpers and comes all over Gabe’s hand and one of the throw pillows instead, which was embarrassingly quickly, but probably less embarrassing than whatever he would’ve said. He closes his eyes and lies there, trying to get his breath back, not wanting to look at Gabe.

“Hey,” Gabe says after a minute. He touches Tyson’s cheek very gently. “Tys.”

Tyson blinks his eyes open. The soft, easy smile that creeps across Gabe’s face when they make eye contact makes Tyson’s stomach hurt. 

“I love you,” Gabe tells him again, but then he kisses Tyson again, like he knows that there’s no way Tyson will be able to bring himself to say it back. 

“Yeah,” Tyson says anyway against Gabe’s mouth, reaches down and wraps his hand around Gabe’s dick again and jerks him off until Gabe comes, too. Tyson ignores: the way Gabe kisses him until he can’t anymore, breath coming faster until he’s just gasping against Tyson’s mouth. The way Gabe leaves his hand between them, awkward as it is, his fingers brushing against Tyson’s as Tyson jerks him off. The way the ache in his stomach keeps building until Gabe cries out, gasps Tyson’s name against his neck and comes and lets his body go lax, pressing them both further into the couch. 

After a few minutes, Gabe shifts, sighing contentedly, and moves to wrap an arm around Tyson. 

“Can I clarify something?” Tyson asks dully, staring at the ceiling. 

“Hmm?” Gabe says. He already sounds sleepy, and Tyson knows that if he let him, Gabe would be asleep in two minutes, would easily spend the night wrapped around Tyson on his own goddamn couch. That isn’t fucking happening. 

“You and Sarah, you’re still together.” It’s not a question, it never was, but if it had been, the way Gabe tenses would be Tyson’s answer. There’s a long moment of silence. 

“I - ” Gabe starts. 

“You gotta leave,” Tyson interrupts. “Like, now.”

“But - ”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Tyson says. “You have to figure out what you want, Gabe, because this isn’t fair. And if you decide it’s not her, you have to tell her first. I - I can’t _do_ this, Jesus, don’t make me do this.”

“I know,” Gabe mumbles. “I’m sorry.” He still doesn’t make any move to get up.

“Leave,” Tyson repeats, his voice downright icy now, and Gabe must see something in his face when he lifts his head up and makes eye contact with Tyson, because his face tightens and he sighs and nods and kisses Tyson’s temple, very gently, before climbing off him and fixing his clothes and leaving. Tyson lies there, his pants still down, soft dick against his thigh and Gabe’s come drying on his stomach, and waits until he hears the front door shut behind Gabe to clench his eyes shut and scream into a throw pillow. 

 

-

 

If Tyson had been worried about it being awkward, he shouldn’t have been; when he and Nate show up at practice the next day, Gabe is nothing but professional. It’s weird, actually, the way he smiles without making eye contact and holds the door as they head out to the ice and then finds a place as far away from Tyson in the group as possible. 

Tyson knows that’s what he should want. It’s what he asked for. 

Gabe leaves quickly and quietly after practice, and Tyson can feel Nate look over at him from his stall, where he’s still only half-dressed and fucking around on his phone even though Tyson has been ready for 10 minutes.

“Hey. What was that about?”

“Nothing,” Tyson says. “Hurry up, let’s go.”

“Okay,” Nate says, voice muffled as he pulls his shirt over his head, “but will you tell me what’s going on, please? You look awful.”

“Gee, Nathan, thanks,” Tyson deadpans. “You really know how to make a boy feel special.” 

Nate throws a sock at him. “I’m serious, you look half-dead. Did you sleep last night?”

“Not really,” Tyson admits. He’d laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling for 40 minutes after Gabe left, and then he’d dragged himself upstairs and taken a 20-minute shower, desperate to wash away not only the physical evidence that Gabe had been there, but also the shame and regret and the phantom feel of Gabe’s hands on him. Tyson isn’t sure he’ll ever get rid of that, no matter how many showers he takes. 

Managing to fall asleep had taken another half hour, because he may have a housekeeper who runs the sheets on his bed through the laundry every week, but he swore he’d been able to smell Gabe on the pillowcase. Tyson is pretty sure this is starting to verge on being haunted. Gabe isn’t even dead.

“So what’s going on?” Nate says, snapping Tyson back to the present. He’s dressed, now, ready to go, looking at Tyson with gentle concern.

Tyson sighs. “Not here. Let’s go.” 

He waits until they’re safely in Nate’s car and Nate is speeding them toward the closest Chipotle to spill it out, focusing only on the way Nate grips the steering wheel tighter and tighter as Tyson talks, until he’s white-knuckled and pulling into a parking spot.

“So he…”

Tyson unbuckles his seat belt and pops the door open. “Yep.” He isn’t even sure what he’s agreeing with, but _yep_ is definitely the mood. It’s all-encompassing. 

“Shit,” Nate says. Tyson agrees.

They shuffle through the line without speaking much, and when they get to the cash register, Nate hands the kid his credit card and says firmly, “They’re together. You want guac, Tys?”

“Guac is extra,” the kid says.

“I know,” Nate tells him gently. “It’s okay. Tyson?”

“No,” Tyson says. “I don’t know. Sure, whatever.”

The kid looks from Nate to Tyson and back to Nate. 

“Guac,” Nate decides. “Yeah. Thanks.” 

Tyson lets himself be herded to a small table in a quiet corner of the restaurant and sits there limply while Nate goes to fill up their drink cups, and it isn’t until Nate gets back and looks at him worriedly that Tyson unwraps his burrito and adds some guac to it and takes a bite. He feels like he’s chewing cardboard.

“Look, I’m proud of you,” Nate says finally, taking a slurp of his drink and putting the cup back down. “For kicking him out. I know how hard that must’ve been.”

Tyson shrugs, mouth full of burrito, and then nods. There are tears pricking at his eyes and the back of his throat hurts and he takes the napkin Nate holds out and then just sits there with it clutched in his hand as he chews and chews. 

“You wanna go?” Nate asks suddenly. “I wanna go. It’s too hot in here. C’mon, we can finish this at my place.” He gets to his feet and starts putting the lid back on his burrito bowl, packing up the guac, balancing both drink cups on top of the burrito bowl. Tyson just stands up, unwrapped burrito in one hand and napkin still in the other, and follows Nate back to his car. 

They’re most of the way back to Nate’s house when Nate clears his throat. “You want me to talk to him? His relationship isn’t my business, but to put you in that position… it’s really shitty.”

“No,” Tyson says, but his chest feels lighter at Nate offering. “I made it pretty clear, it’s - I think he gets it.”

“Okay,” Nate says, pulling into his driveway. “Well. If you change your mind.”

“I’ll let you know,” Tyson tells him. 

Nate gives him a clumsy sideways hug in the driveway, one that Tyson can’t reciprocate because his hands are full of burrito and his drink and the guac, but it helps. 

 

-

 

February fades into March, and March into April, and before Tyson knows it the season is wrapping up and he’s cleaning out his stall and looking forward to a summer of nothing. Getting over Gabe, hopefully, before the wedding at the beginning of July. That’s kind of his main goal, and it will, with any luck, include his two secondary goals, which are “fuck someone who isn’t Gabe” and “get extremely wasted, ideally at a festival and/or on a boat.” Nate had circled the date of the wedding in red on his wall calendar as Tyson made fun of him for owning a wall calendar, “what are you, a soccer mom coordinating school pickup and the bake sale and little Timmy’s playdate?”

“I’d be a great soccer mom, fuck you,” Nate had fired back, and they had both laughed, and for a minute it had been easy to forget about the shining red circle around fucking July 6th. 

Nate comes over the night before he heads out of town, off to LA to train with Sid and see EJ, Tyson is pretty sure. Nate hasn’t mentioned it specifically but he said something about going to the horse races and then looked embarrassed and changed the subject, and Tyson’s decided to leave it be. Just because he and Gabe haven’t spoken about anything besides hockey since February doesn’t mean Nate can’t have another friend on the team. They go out to the backyard and light the tiki torches Tyson bought at Home Depot, and Tyson slumps into one of his patio loungers and picks at his helping of the kale salad Nate brought with him, because even at the beginning of the offseason “health is paramount, Tyson,” and drinks three wine coolers and lets Nate talk his ear off about how he and Sid decided they’d drive back to Halifax from LA, which sounds like a terrible idea to Tyson.

“That sounds like a terrible idea,” he says at one point, tipping his head back to look at the stars that are starting to come out. “It’s, what, so many miles? Like fucking five thousand miles, Nate. Too far.”

“It’s not five thousand miles, idiot,” Nate says. “It’s 3,600 miles, and it’s not a terrible idea.”

“Oh, sorry, only 3,600 miles,” Tyson says. “Have fun listening to World War II podcasts for 3,600 miles.”

“Fuck you,” Nate says, but he’s laughing. “You are such a dick, seriously.”

“Does Crosby even listen to music?” Tyson wants to know. “Does he know what it is?”

“Uh, actually, yes,” Nate says snottily. “He sent me this great song by Creedence Clearwater Revival the other day.”

Tyson laughs until his stomach hurts. 

Nate heads out around 11, leaving Tyson with the leftover kale salad and a hug and a simple “see you in July,” and then Tyson is left to sober up and stare at his sink full of dishes and trash and try to decide how big of a tip he’d need to give his cleaning lady if he just leaves this mess for three days until she comes. He’s just about settled on $200 when the doorbell rings, and he rolls his eyes and scans the room for whatever Nate must’ve left behind before heading down the hall. 

“Please tell me you want the rest of that salad after all,” Tyson says as he opens the door, and then he almost chokes, because of course it’s not Nate at the door. It’s Gabe. 

“What salad?” Gabe asks, forehead wrinkled up in confusion. He’s still beautiful, because of course he is. Tyson isn’t lucky enough to be in love with someone ugly.

“Nate brought a kale salad over,” Tyson says. 

Gabe stares at him. “It’s summer.”

Tyson shrugs. “It’s Nate.”

Gabe half-grins and nods, and then takes a step forward as if to come in. Tyson wedges himself into the open doorway and doesn’t move. “Oh,” Gabe says, smile faltering. “I - can I come in?”

“Is it any different than the last time you showed up here?” Tyson counters. 

Gabe sucks in a deep breath through his teeth. “If you mean am I still with Sarah, is the wedding still on - yes.” He raises his voice and carries on as Tyson takes a breath to tell Gabe to get off his porch, and Tyson is just a hair not sober enough to cut him off. “But if you mean am I still not sure about it and am I still in love with you, that’s a yes too. I still love you so much, Tys, and - ”

“Bullshit,” Tyson says loudly, finally finding his voice. 

Gabe blinks at him. “What?”

“If you _loved_ me,” Tyson says, taking a deep breath to steel himself for this, “you wouldn’t have broken up with me in the first place. You wouldn’t have told me that you met someone else and ‘can’t do this anymore,’ like that vague bullshit is a good enough reason to end a two-year relationship. You wouldn’t show up at my house a year later and cry to me about how confused you are, cheat on your fiancée with me, ignore me for three months, and then come around again to do the same thing. If you loved me, that’d be that. You love me, you want to be with me, it’s that simple.”

“It’s not that simple,” Gabe says, his beautiful eyes full of hurt. “But I… I do wish I could be with you, Tyson.”

“Then go call off your wedding!” Tyson says. He’s so tired. “Call off your wedding, and you can be. Jesus, Gabe, I told you, I’m not _doing_ this.”

“But - ” Gabe starts, taking another step forward, and he’s close enough now that if Tyson leaned forward he could kiss him. If, if, if.

“Please,” Tyson interrupts softly, and he can see as the fight runs out of Gabe, the tension falling out of his shoulders.

“Okay,” Gabe says. “I just - I want this. I’m here.”

“You’re not,” Tyson says, still softly, because Gabe isn’t the one waiting on Tyson to break up with his fiancée, and Tyson isn’t the one who woke up one day almost a year and a half ago and told Gabe he’d met someone else. “ _I’m_ here, Gabe, I’m always the one who’s here.”

Gabe stares at his shoes. Tyson waits, hip propped against the doorframe, because he’s stupid and hopeless and in love. He knows he should shut the door and get on with his life, find somebody who would fight to be with him no matter what, but knowing it is different than wanting it or doing it. 

“Do you still love me?” Gabe asks finally, looking back up at Tyson. Tyson sort of wants to slug him right in the ungodly beautiful mouth.

“You don’t get to ask me that,” he says, and it’s too much of an answer, not angry enough, not the no that he wishes he could give, and he can see that Gabe knows it. 

“You’re right,” is all Gabe says, though, and finally takes a step back. “I’m sorry.”

“Have a good summer, Gabe,” Tyson says, and finally shuts the goddamn door. 

 

-

 

The trip to California for Gabe’s wedding feels like Tyson is walking to his own execution. He doesn’t even have backup for the flight, Nate flying in from Halifax, his road trip with Sid apparently a success. Tyson is in the bathroom by his gate when he hears the first boarding announcement for his flight, and for one wild minute he’s gripped with the fantasy of just… leaving the airport. He doesn’t have to go. He doesn’t have to do this to himself, not when he’s failed so spectacularly at coming anywhere close to getting over Gabe no matter how many times he’s drunk too much or fucked someone else.

Tyson gets on the damn plane. He asks for a double Jack and Coke, forces it down with two aspirin and puts on his headphones and just tries not to think about it. 

Nate meets him at LAX, his flight landing about an hour before Tyson’s, takes one look at him and steers him to the Coffee Bean by baggage claim and buys him a coffee, black with two sugars, pushing it into Tyson’s hands. “Just drink it,” he says when Tyson makes a face, and waits until Tyson takes a few gulps to nod, satisfied.

“Are you done mothering me?” Tyson says. “Can I go rent a car for us now, since you’re too young to do it yourself?” 

“Lead the way,” Nate says calmly. Tyson throws the rest of the coffee in the trash just to be spiteful.

Once he’s with Nate, though, and then once they get to EJ’s house, it’s easier for Tyson to forget why they’re all there. They grill steaks out on EJ’s deck and spend awhile catching each other up on how their summers have gone so far. It’s mostly Nate and EJ talking, but Tyson has a few stories, and he pretends not to notice how they glance at each other worriedly when he tells them the one about how he got blackout drunk on somebody’s boat back home in Victoria and hooked up with two guys at the same party. It’s fine. Just another classic Tyson summer.

“So,” EJ says once it’s pretty late and he and Nate have killed a lot of beer. Tyson is on his fourth glass of wine, some snobby red from a vineyard EJ mentioned visiting earlier in the summer. It’s pretty good, but Tyson is drunk enough that he’s barely tasting it at this point; it could be $2 Trader Joe’s wine for all he knows. “What’s the plan? Are we objecting?”

“What?” Tyson slurs as Nate reaches over and punches EJ’s thigh.

“Ow, what the fuck, Nathan,” EJ says. “I’m trying to help!”

“Being a dick isn’t helping, you dick,” Nate says. “Shut the fuck up about it.”

“Guys,” Tyson says, trying to push himself upright on the wicker loveseat and just falling back into the cushions again instead. “Really, we can talk about it. We all know why we’re here.”

“People don’t even do that at weddings anymore, the speak now or forever hold your peace bit,” Nate says bitchily. “It’s outdated, Erik.”

“You’re outdated, you Pinterest mom,” EJ shoots back. “I’m gonna support whatever Tyson wants to do.”

“Nobody’s objecting,” Tyson says. “Gabe had his chance. It’s… whatever.”

“It’s not _whatever_ when you’re in love with someone,” EJ says, and this time manages to dodge the punch Nate tries to land. “Do not punch me again, you overgrown child.”

Nate gets up and stomps inside, banging the screen door behind him hard enough that it springs back open and he has to come back to actually close it. “Punch him if he’s being a dick, Tys,” he calls out, and Tyson raises his almost empty wine glass in a salute.

“I guess you wouldn’t really object,” EJ says after a minute. “That’s kind of dramatic.”

“Hey, dramatic is the Barrie way,” Tyson says. “No, it just doesn’t feel worth it. Like… he knows I’d take him back if he actually did it the right way, and he didn’t do anything. That’s - I get it, you know? He keeps telling me he still loves me, but he’s not acting like it, and I’m not gonna make a scene in front of everyone for nothing.”

EJ frowns. “Doesn’t seem fair, man.”

“Oh, it’s absolutely not,” Tyson assures him, and they look at each other and start laughing, huge belly laughs until they’re both crying and Tyson is bent over at the waist and Nate comes back outside to see what the hell is going on. It feels strangely good. 

 

-

 

July 6th is a gorgeous day: sunny, a cloudless blue sky, 85 degrees, just enough of a breeze coming off the ocean to make sitting outdoors pleasant. Tyson would’ve preferred for it to rain. A hailstorm, maybe, or a locust plague. A fucking tornado to pick him up and take him far, far away. 

Instead, the weather is perfect and he’s sitting in an uncomfortable chair sandwiched between Nate and EJ, the buzz from excited, happy wedding guests droning in his ears. The location and view are spectacular, set on a bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean, and Tyson is actively working to not make an excessive number of “maybe I’ll just jump off this cliff” jokes. He feels like he’s losing his mind. His stomach hurts.

“Are you okay?” Nate asks, nudging the knee that Tyson realizes he’d been shaking.

“Yes,” he says automatically. “No. I - what time is it?”

EJ checks his watch. “6:50. God, we have to sit here for another 10 minutes before it even _starts_. I’m starving.”

“I’ll be right back,” Tyson says. “Bathroom,” he adds, when Nate gives him a look, and climbs over Nate’s knees before he can say anything or stop him. He finds the bathroom, splashes some water on his face and pats it dry with a paper towel, and then looks at himself in the mirror for a solid thirty seconds before calmly pushing open the door and turning not right to go back outside, but left. 

It doesn’t take him long to find the room where Gabe is, and Tyson, still calm, knocks on the door. He should’ve known he’d end up here, he muses as he waits for the door to open. He didn’t plan on it, but he figured out a long time ago how hard it is for him to stay away.

Gabe opens the door. He hesitates, his eyebrows drawing together first, but then he smiles and so Tyson ignores it. In retrospect, that was a mistake.

“Don’t do this,” Tyson says. “Please.”

“What?” Gabe says. He glances behind him and then steps out into the hall, pulling the door shut behind him. “Tyson, what are you doing?”

“I’m here,” Tyson says. “Gabe, I don’t care, just - don’t get married. Please. I should’ve said it before, I love you and I don’t - ”

“Tyson,” Gabe says, and his voice is already heavy with regret.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Tyson says. “Fuck this, Gabe, come on, you don’t have to do this. I love you. We can just walk out of here right now, it doesn’t matter, we’re all that matters. Let’s go, you and me, right now.”

Gabe doesn’t say anything. He puts his hands in his pockets and looks at the ground.

“Leave with me,” Tyson says desperately, reaching out and gripping Gabe’s biceps, willing Gabe to look up and meet his eyes and agree.

Instead, Gabe steps backwards, out of Tyson’s grasp, and looks away. “I… you know I can’t.”

“You _can_ ,” Tyson says, his voice cracking. “What the fuck, Gabe, two months ago you were at my door telling me how much you love me and that you want to be with me, and now - ”

“That was - that was two months ago,” Gabe says. “I can’t - Jesus. I can’t walk out now.” He still won’t look at Tyson. His face is set and determined, jaw clenched. He’s turned cold, completely different from the Gabe that Tyson fell in love with, the Gabe that came to Tyson’s house and wanted to love him. Instead he’s the Gabe that ended it, the Gabe that broke Tyson’s heart, the one who already chose Sarah over Tyson once. 

“Leave with me,” Tyson repeats anyway, so quiet it’s like a prayer, a final desperate plea. He takes two steps closer, moving in close to Gabe, leaning up enough to ghost his lips over Gabe’s jaw. Gabe turns toward him, eyes closed, and barely presses his lips against Tyson’s temple before stepping back again. 

“I’m sorry,” Gabe says. He swallows. “I have to do the right thing.”

Tyson leaves him there in the hallway, hands still in his pockets, and tries not to look back. He makes it around the corner before he has to stop and gasp for breath and wipe the tears off his face. 

“Where - ” Nate starts as Tyson pushes back into their row, but then he must see the look on Tyson’s face because he stops, grabs at Tyson’s wrist as Tyson sits down. “What happened?”

Tyson shakes his head. If he talks, he’ll cry. 

“You went to find him?” Nate asks, leaning in close. Tyson nods. “And it didn’t go well?” Tyson shakes his head again, swallows against the lump in his throat and blinks back tears. 

“Shit,” Nate mutters. “Okay. C’mere.” He wraps his arm around Tyson’s shoulders and Tyson goes boneless against him, not caring even a little that he’s sober and in public. 

“What happened?” EJ asks, turning from his conversation with Mikko on his other side. “Jesus, Tys, are you okay?”

“No,” Nate says grimly as the music starts. “He’s not.”

The ceremony is both a blur and neverending; Tyson stands and sits when they’re supposed to, moving as if he’s not in control of his own body, and mostly tries to focus on anything besides what’s happening in front of him. The sound of the ocean, waves crashing against the bluff. EJ fidgeting next to him. Nate’s arm still firmly around his shoulders. The sun in his eyes as it sets. 

Try as Tyson might, though, he can’t block out the part of Gabe’s vows where he tells Sarah, voice breaking, that she’s the sun in his life. He makes a small, choked noise and Nate’s arm tightens around him and, okay, Tyson would really like to jump off the cliff they’re all sitting on right now, thanks. 

“I’ll get you a drink,” Nate says the second the ceremony is over. “EJ, take Tyson and find our table, go sit down. Unless you want to just leave, Tys.”

“We can stay,” Tyson says, not because he wants to stay, but because he does want a drink.

“Will someone please tell me what happened?” EJ asks.

“Later,” Nate snaps. “Just do it.” 

“Tys?” EJ says uncertainly as Nate disappears into the crowd of people making their way inside for cocktails. “Buddy?”

Tyson takes a deep breath. “I went to find Gabe before the ceremony. Told him I love him, asked him to leave with me.”

EJ sucks in a huge breath through the gap where his teeth should be. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Tyson says miserably. “Please don’t tell anybody else.”

It’s a testament to the seriousness of the moment that EJ says, genuinely and without any hesitation, “I won’t. I promise. Let’s go sit down.”

Nate shows up at the table with a tray of drinks, which he sets in front of Tyson with a small pat on his shoulder, and two beers, one of which he hands over to EJ. When Tyson finishes the first drink in two gulps and immediately reaches for a second and EJ starts to say something, Nate elbows him in the side and shakes his head. 

“You’re a good friend, Nate,” Tyson tells him, halfway through the second drink, and Nate just smiles at him sadly.

“Thanks, buddy. Don’t drink those too fast or you’ll get sick.”

Tyson doesn’t want that, so he slows down just a little, but he’s still pretty far gone before they even serve dinner. He has no idea what he eats; it could be chicken, it could be fish. He doesn't care. When his plate is empty he steals Nate’s roll, slathers it in butter and enjoys it with his fifth drink of the evening, and he’s just polished it off when Gabe shows up.

“Hey, guys,” he says hesitantly, smiling when the people at the table who aren’t Nate and Tyson greet him cheerfully. “How’s it going? Whoa, hey, Tys, mix in a water.”

“Fuck you,” Tyson says, and then burps. EJ snorts. 

Gabe blinks. “Um, I - ”

“Don’t,” Nate says coldly. “I really wouldn’t. Go talk to your other guests. Congrats.”

“I did actually want to talk to Tyson for a minute, though, so - ”

“Does Tyson look like he’s in any state to talk to you?” Nate asks, quietly furious. Tyson holds up his newly acquired full glass and grins, drunkenly. “Does this really seem like the time and place to talk to Tyson?”

“Well,” Gabe starts, glancing around like he’s hoping someone else will jump in and save him.

“No,” Nate answers for him. “The answer to both of those questions is absolutely fucking not. Which, I’ll remind you, you have only yourself to blame for that.”

“Okay. I get it,” Gabe says quietly, and leaves. 

“You were mean to him,” Tyson slurs into the silence that follows as Nate stabs at whatever’s left of his chicken or fish.

“You can barely sit up right now,” Nate says. “Yeah, I was fucking mean to him. He’ll get over it, he’s a big boy.”

Tyson frowns and sighs. “I think I want to leave now.”

“Okay,” Nate says immediately, dropping his fork and tossing his napkin on top of his plate. “EJ, you coming?” They confer in hurried whispers, and eventually EJ hands Nate his keys and claps him on the shoulder before Nate turns back to Tyson, who is looking around the ballroom.

“There’s so much yellow,” Tyson informs Nate. “Yellow like Gabe’s hair. It’s like this wedding is on Gabe’s head.”

“Can you stand up?” Nate asks, ignoring that. “Try to stand up, Tyson.” 

Tyson wobbles to his feet and takes the arm that Nate offers, and they slowly make their way out of the ballroom. Once they’re outside in the parking lot, the air hits Tyson’s face. It feels nice.

“The breeze is nice,” he tells Nate.

“It is,” Nate agrees. “Can you sit here? I’ll find the valet and have him get EJ’s car, it’ll be just a minute.”

“Sure,” Tyson says, letting himself be deposited on a bench and humming a little to himself as Nate disappears. He feels good. Alcohol is so good.

“Tyson,” Gabe says, appearing in front of Tyson out of nowhere. “Please, I need to talk to you.”

“No,” Tyson says immediately, the hurt starting to creep in again through the cracks of the protective barrier that six drinks built up. “No, I don’t want to talk to you.” He pushes himself to his feet and tries to walk away, but those six drinks were strong and he mostly just wobbles around.

“Please,” Gabe says again, and Tyson hates him suddenly, hates how soft and polite he’s being like he didn’t spend the last six months jerking Tyson around when all Tyson has ever done is fall in love with Gabe when he was 20 years old and imagine their life together like a naive child, like he might actually be lucky enough to get to keep someone like Gabe. 

“Fuck off,” Tyson says, turning on Gabe angrily, and Gabe’s eyes widen and he actually takes a step back, which would be funny if Tyson weren’t so furious and drunk. “Nate’s right, you did this, and you have no right to want to talk to me now. Talk to me, like that’s going to fucking fix anything when you basically beat my heart to death with a baseball bat three hours ago.”

“I - ” Gabe starts, and Tyson has really had enough now. 

“No!” he yells, probably louder than he should in the parking lot of this uptight, prissy resort. “You rejected me, you don’t get to ask me for _shit_ right now! You’re gonna listen to me, and you’re gonna leave me the fuck alone, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Gabe says, like that could possibly mean anything, and Tyson looks at him standing there in his goddamn tuxedo pants and white shirt with the sleeves turned up, tie undone, and lets the anger burn through him like a wildfire. 

“Leave me alone,” Tyson says again, furiously, and that’s when Nate shows up, the valet dashing out into the parking lot to retrieve EJ’s car.

“Leave him alone,” Nate echoes, and Gabe slumps in defeat. He stands there as the valet pulls EJ’s BMW up to the curb and Nate helps Tyson struggle into the passenger seat, and he’s still standing there when Tyson rolls down the window and flips him off as Nate drives away. 

“Roll the window back up,” Nate says, turning onto the 101, and Tyson does and then immediately starts crying, the tears that he’s been holding back all night finally unleashed. Nate clears his throat. “Hey Siri?”

“Hello, Nathan,” Siri says. “What can I help you with?” 

“Find me the nearest Dairy Queen,” Nate says.

 

-

 

The summer rolls on the way it pretty much always does. Tyson doesn’t make any more progress on getting over Gabe after the wedding than he did before it, if the sick feeling in his stomach when Gabe posts a stupid picture from his honeymoon on his Instagram is any indication. Tyson vengefully unfollows him, and then immediately regrets it but refuses to request to follow him again on principle. He’s at least going to keep trying to get over Gabe, even if it seems hopeless.

He ends up heading back to Denver a little earlier than usual; back home, there’s always someone to drink or fuck around with, and it’s fun in the moment, but this summer he’s mostly just felt tired and sad when it’s over. Tyson hopes, as he unlocks the house and opens some of the windows and wanders out to the back deck, that being back in his not-summer routine will help. 

It doesn’t, really, because no one else is back in town yet except the prospects, so if he’s not forcing himself to go train he mostly lies on the couch or out on the deck and thinks about Gabe. He wonders what Gabe is posting on his Instagram. 

Tyson ends up taking the prospects out to dinner one night, just for something to do. They look at him like he’s a leader, and that feels good. Knowing they believe in him makes him feel like maybe he’s someone to believe in, and he squares his shoulders and keeps his chin up high as he walks in for the first real day of the season.

Gabe is already there, because of course Tyson can’t have even five minutes of peace, holding court in a shirt Tyson’s never seen. He has a vacation tan, and his hair is longer than usual, and Tyson is wearing a pair of pants that are on their third day of wear without being washed. There’s a ketchup stain on them. He briefly considers lying down on the ice and having the Zamboni run him over.

“You unfollowed me on Instagram,” he says in greeting when he sees Tyson, like their last interaction didn’t literally end with Tyson flipping him off. 

Tyson shrugs. “Yeah.” He concentrates very hard on not projecting _actually I wish I hadn’t, can I please refollow you_ vibes, and Gabe’s face falls a little, so he thinks it worked. 

“How was your summer?” Gabe asks uncertainly.

“Oh, peachy,” Tyson says, and then just walks off to find Nate. He can handle a lot - he’s going to have to handle a lot - but bullshit small talk about his goddamn summer is not on that list. 

Gabe leaves him alone the rest of the day, but Tyson can feel Gabe’s eyes on him constantly, burning a hole in him whenever they pass each other to and from various interviews. Tyson is just grateful they aren’t paired together this year, and takes a moment to thank whoever tipped off Emily and the rest of the social media team that it would not go well. 

Tyson’s luck doesn’t last: on their way out at the end of the day, Gabe catches up with him. He was almost to his car and everything, had even already hit the button to unlock it. If he’d just been 30 seconds faster he’d be driving away already, on his way home to make a batch of cookie dough and eat it raw while lying on the couch. 

“What, Gabe?” Tyson asks irritably.

“Look, I get it, you hate me,” Gabe says, and Tyson immediately bristles, because he’s absolutely fucking allowed to hate Gabe right now, no matter what Gabe has to say about it. “But we’re getting back out on the ice tomorrow, and we’re going to have to play together, and I just wanted to make sure that - ”

“Jesus,” Tyson spits. “Don’t worry, I’ll be professional. I’m not going to sabotage the team, but it’s good to know that’s all you care about.”

Gabe looks hurt. “That’s not fair. I’m trying, I - ”

Tyson laughs a very loud, very fake laugh. “You‘re _trying_. Sure. Here’s what’s going to happen, Gabe: we’re going to play hockey together, we’re going to be professional, and it’s going to be fine. Off the ice, outside of the room? We don’t know each other. We don’t talk. I’m not gonna make it uncomfortable, I’m not gonna create drama and ask for a trade, but I can’t be friends with you. Okay?”

Gabe sighs. 

“You better say okay, because there isn’t another option,” Tyson warns. His whole chest aches, although he isn’t sure if he’s angry or sad. Both, probably.

“Okay,” Gabe says very quietly. 

“Great,” Tyson says, and turns to walk to his car, finally, and get in. Gabe stands there and watches him go. Tyson somehow resists the urge to hit him, which means he’s going to make the cookie dough and eat it in bed. He deserves it.

 

-

 

Gabe listens, though, and after that it goes pretty much like Tyson needs it to. On the ice they’re fine: they communicate and make plays and after the first few times a goal is scored when they’re both on the ice the white-hot hurt of celebrating together with their teammates while knowing it doesn’t go any further than that subsides into a dull ache. Tyson starts going out for drinks when a group gets together again, and they mostly just stick to opposite ends of the table and talk to different people. 

It’s fine, though, is the point. Tyson is managing. Until he isn’t. 

It’s late January when he walks into the locker room for an off-day practice and sees Gabe’s stall covered in pink balloons, which is kind of weird, and then he sees Gabe, wide grin on his face, talking to Z and Soda. Tyson takes a step backwards, barely aware of what he’s doing or even quite why, and crashes into Mikko, who barreled into the room behind him holding a naked baby doll. 

“Did you hear?” he asks Tyson excitedly, not waiting for an answer before he drops the bomb: “Sarah’s pregnant! Gabe is a dad!”

Tyson doesn’t even think about the possible consequences of what he’s doing, he just leaves. Goes out to his car and drives out of the parking garage and takes himself home. His brain doesn’t quite catch up with his body until he’s parked in his garage, and then he swears and finds his phone and texts Nate, _had to leave tell coach i’m sick_

Nate texts back within a minute, a second message immediately following the first:

_i’ll tell him_  
_u heard?_

Tyson texts back _yup_ and then turns off his phone, goes in the house, closes every curtain and window shade, digs a carton of cookie dough ice cream out of his freezer, and cocoons himself in two blankets on the couch with the ice cream, the TV remote, and a box of Kleenex. So he’s a walking cliche, who gives a fuck. 

When Nate lets himself in the house three hours later, the ice cream is mostly gone and half the box of Kleenex is wadded up at Tyson’s feet, and Tyson is staring blearily at the TV without really seeing it while a House Hunters rerun plays. 

“Okay,” Nate says gently, taking the carton of melted ice cream out of Tyson’s hands and setting it down on the coffee table. “You want to talk about it?”

“No,” Tyson says, pulling one of the blankets up over his head. 

“Tys,” Nate says. He leans over and starts picking up Tyson’s snotty, cried-on Kleenexes.

“That should’ve been me,” Tyson manages.

“What, pregnant?” Nate asks. “Look, I have bad news for you, then.”

“No, asshole,” Tyson says, swiping at his eyes. “I - you know what I mean. I really thought that would be us.”

“Having kids, really?” Nate says. “Did you talk about it?”

“No.” Tyson picks up the remote and turns the TV off, and then lies down on the couch, staring miserably up at the ceiling. “It was like… serious. I don’t know. I thought about it, and I wanted it, and… I saw myself having it. With him.”

Nate makes a low, sympathetic noise and reaches over to pat Tyson’s foot. 

“God, he probably broke up with me because having kids with me would’ve been too hard,” Tyson says. 

“I’m sure he didn’t,” Nate says. 

“Think about it, Nate,” Tyson says. “Everyone knows that Gabe wanted kids, and he broke up with me because he met a girl. Now they’re married and she’s pregnant, isn’t that so sweet? What a nice story. What a happy ending for them. Too bad for Tyson, with his non-uterus and inability to have children. Screw that guy, he can die alone, Gabe and Sarah and their beautiful baby don’t care.”

Nate sighs. He doesn’t say anything. It’s very quiet.

“I know you’re probably thinking I need to stop wallowing and get over it,” Tyson says. He swallows. “Like, I tried. All summer. I - what if I feel like this forever?”

“You won’t feel like this forever,” Nate says. 

Tyson picks at the skin around his thumbnail and doesn’t believe him. He wants to, but he also knows that it’s been two years since Gabe ended it and he’s still desperately in love with him. He knows that up until now, until he knew there was a baby, there was a part of him that really thought Gabe might change his mind and leave. He knows how much he’d wanted that part of him to be right. 

“I think he was the love of my life,” he tells Nate dully. 

“You’re 27,” Nate tells him, which Tyson knows is supposed to be helpful but mostly just stings, because he’s not really that young anymore and he’s been in love with Gabe for seven years and maybe this is just the rest of his life.

“I need to date someone else,” he announces after a few minutes.

Nate glances up at him, away from the phone he was holding down between his knees, pretending not to be on it as he swiped through Instagram. Tyson can see the story he’s watching; someone playing golf. “Really? Like, actually date?”

“Yeah. Maybe I need to actually try to like someone else, not just sleep with whoever will have me. I don’t know.”

“You think you’re ready for that?” Nate hedges. “I don’t know, Tys.”

“It doesn’t need to be serious,” Tyson says. “Just someone to have dinner and spend the night with instead of meeting for sex at 1 AM and leaving as soon as he falls asleep, carrying my shoes.” It’s supposed to be funny, but instead it just sounds kind of sad.

“I maybe know someone,” Nate says after a moment of consideration. He reaches over and pats Tyson’s foot again. “I’ll give him your number. You’ll be okay.”

“Thanks,” Tyson mumbles. He isn’t so sure, but at least he has Nate.

 

-

 

Nick is stocky, taller than Tyson but not by much, with dark hair and a wide smile and a half-sleeve of looping, swirled tattoos covering one of his thick forearms. He’s nice. He takes Tyson to dinner and doesn’t laugh at him when Tyson orders two desserts and opens the car door for Tyson when they go back to his place.

“I had fun,” he tells Tyson the next morning, offering him coffee and a kiss on the cheek, both of which Tyson accepts. “We should do this again.”

“Yeah,” Tyson says. “I’d like that.” He thinks he means it.

As soon as Tyson walks into practice that morning, Nate straightens up and flips a towel at him, beaming. “Hey! There he is! The date must’ve gone well.”

Tyson grins a little and tosses the towel back at Nate, pretending not to notice the way Gabe, in the middle of lacing up his skates, has straightened up and is frowning slightly.

“You had a date?” Gabe asks him. “With who?”

“I think you mean with whom,” Kerfy says. No one acknowledges him.

“Nate’s dentist,” Tyson says as casually as possible, starting to change. Gabe makes a sputtering, annoyed noise.

“He’s not _my_ dentist,” Nate corrects. “He’s the other dentist at my dentist’s office, I don’t actually see him.”

“But you knew he’s gay and looking?” Gabe asks. “That seems unprofessional, what, is he walking around the office announcing it?”

“For god’s sake, Landy,” EJ says. 

“I’m just saying!” Gabe says. “It makes you wonder, that’s all.”

“No, it doesn’t,” EJ says. “Tys, that’s great. What’s he look like?”

“Show them the picture I found for you,” Nate says, and so EJ and Mikko and Josty all crowd around Tyson’s phone as he pulls up the picture Nate saved from Facebook and texted him before the date. 

“Oh, he’s _hot_!” Josty says gleefully. “Look at those tattoos!”

“Tattoos fade,” Gabe says rudely in the background. 

“Please tell me you slept with him,” EJ says. 

Tyson smirks.

“That’s a yes,” Mikko says unnecessarily, laughing. “Hey everyone, go easy on Tys today, he’ll be sore!”

“Fuck off, Rants,” Tyson says, but he’s laughing too, and good-naturedly shrugs and offers the rest of the room a middle finger as he gets a couple of catcalls and a smattering of applause thrown his way. Gabe is the notable exception, face red and angry as he goes back to lacing up his skates, and he gets up and heads to the ice as soon as he’s ready ahead of the rest of the team.

“What a baby,” Nate mutters, quietly enough for only Tyson to hear.

Tyson shrugs. “His loss.” It feels good to say, even if his heart isn’t quite in it yet. It’s a start. 

 

-

 

“I’m not sure how much I _like_ him,” Tyson confides to Nate. They’ve met for breakfast after his fifth date and subsequent sleepover with Nick, and once they’d ordered Nate had asked for a recap. “I like him, he’s funny, but I don’t know if there’s really any - ” He balls his hand into a fist and gestures, vaguely.

Nate looks alarmed. “What, fisting?”

“No. Jesus. A real connection, I guess.” Tyson takes a sip of his orange juice. “He’s not looking for anything serious, he told me that, so I don’t even know if it matters, but I don’t think this is the guy for me in the long run.”

“Well.” Nate looks thoughtful. “I would’ve been really surprised if the first guy you dated after Gabe was, like, The One. Are you even… _over_ Gabe?”

Tyson scrunches up his nose, making a face. 

“So no,” Nate assumes correctly, leaning back as the waitress drops their plates off. Tyson gives her a smile in thanks as Nate grabs for the hot sauce and starts dumping it all over his eggs.

“It’s easier,” Tyson says. “I don’t feel shitty all the time. But… not really.”

“Mm,” Nate hums around a mouthful of eggs. “But you like Nick.”

“Yeah,” Tyson says, because he does, is the thing. A week ago, as Nick had offered the usual cup of coffee before Tyson headed out in the morning, Tyson had been struck by guilt and babbled out something likely inane about how there were unresolved feelings with his ex and it was a really bad time for him to start a relationship. He’d expected Nick to withdraw, to take the coffee and tell Tyson, tightly, that maybe he’d better go. Instead, he’d smiled. 

“Tyson,” he’d said. “I’m not looking to fall in love, okay? I have a good time with you. That’s enough for me, so don’t worry about it.” He’d taken a sip of coffee and then added, winking, “I am okay with being your rebound.”

“Oh,” Tyson had said stupidly. “I - really?”

Nick had put his coffee down on the counter and reached out to put both hands on Tyson’s shoulders. “We’re having fun, right?” When Tyson nodded, he’d shrugged. “Then yes. Really.”

Tyson recounts this for Nate between bites of his waffles, and then shrugs. “So I like him, and there’s no - I mean, there’s not _no_ spark, there’s a spark - ”

“No details, please,” Nate says hastily, as if Tyson is going to share the details of his sex life in a diner. That was one time. 

“ - where it counts,” Tyson finishes, rolling his eyes at Nate. “And no, it won’t ever become a serious thing, but does that matter? He says it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter to me, and - ”

“Dude,” Nate interrupts, setting his fork down. “You’re overthinking it. Neither of you care that there’s no potential for more, so just go with it.”

Tyson sighs. 

“Stop looking for a reason to stop seeing him,” Nate says, more bluntly. “I’m not letting you do that. This is good for you, okay? It doesn’t need to be magical.”

“Wow,” Tyson says. “Great life advice, Nathan. ‘It doesn’t need to be magical.’”

“You know what I mean!” Nate says, going back to his food. “Let the hot dentist keep taking you to dinner.”

“Oh, that’s not the only place he takes me,” Tyson says, lewdly, and Nate pretends to vomit.

Tyson keeps thinking about it for the rest of the day, though, and he knows Nate’s right. There’s no point looking for problems where there aren’t any and he’s enjoying himself, so he keeps saying yes when Nick calls to ask him to dinner. He gets them Nuggets tickets after he finds out that Nick likes basketball, and that’s a big hit. 

With Nick, anyway.

“Saw you courtside at the Nuggets game,” Gabe says snidely, catching up to Tyson on his way in to practice the next day. “Looked all cozy.”

“What do you care?” Tyson asks, not looking over at him.

“I don’t,” Gabe says, and if there’s one thing Tyson knows after knowing Gabe as well as he does for as long as he has, it’s that Gabe is lying through his teeth. He isn’t quite sure how he feels about that. “I’m just surprised you’re still seeing him, he doesn’t seem like your type.”

“Really?” Tyson says. “Weird. He’s nice to me and is great in bed - _way_ better than I’ve had in a _long_ time - what’s not to like?” He’s lying; not about Nick being great in bed, because he is, but it’s not better than it ever was with Gabe. Tyson has slept with a lot of people, but it was always on a completely different level with Gabe. He mostly tries not to actively think about it, but it’s worth saying for the way Gabe’s face gets all tight and pinched. 

“Whatever,” Gabe snaps, and uses his freakishly long legs to speed up ahead of Tyson. Which is all Tyson wanted in the first place, to not be accosted outside his workplace by his ex-boyfriend, so that’s perfectly fine with him. 

 

-

 

The other shoe drops in May. 

Tyson is still in Denver; he feels a little strange taking off for the whole summer even though this thing with Nick is still definitely not at the “we need to coordinate our summer plans” stage. Tyson feels like it might at least have progressed to the “leaving for four months with no conversation about it isn’t gonna fly” stage, but he isn’t sure that conversation is one he really wants to have.

Nick asks if he wants to go to Vail for the weekend, which seems a little too close to being something that only people in serious relationships would do to Tyson but Nick assures him it’s fine, a patient who works in the hospitality industry offered him discounted hotel vouchers and they might as well take advantage, and so they go. It’s relaxing and fun and Nick doesn’t drop any unwelcome declarations of emotion, and Tyson barely thinks about Gabe all weekend.

“Who’s that?” Nick asks as he turns onto Tyson’s street on Sunday night. At first Tyson thinks he must be talking about one of his neighbors, but there’s no one out. Then he sees Gabe’s car in his driveway.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Tyson groans. “It’s my ex. God. I’m so sorry.”

“You want me to stay?” Nick says warily as he pulls up alongside Gabe’s car in the driveway. Gabe is already out of his car, leaning against it as he scrolls through his phone, and he looks up and waves smarmily. 

“I really think you do not want to do that,” Tyson replies. “But thanks. I’ll be fine,” he adds, because Nick is still eyeing Gabe suspiciously and with distaste, which Tyson appreciates and all but is probably not necessary. Gabe is about as threatening as a Golden Retriever.

“Call me if you need anything,” Nick says, unconvinced, but he doesn’t push it and Tyson likes him more for it. He gets his bag out of the back and leans over to give Nick a quick kiss goodbye, but Nick puts his hand on Tyson’s wrist and tugs him in and it turns into a little more than a quick kiss.

“Bye,” Tyson says, face flaming hot when they finally come up for air. He can feel Gabe staring at them through the windshield. 

Nick smiles, reaches out and brushes his thumb over Tyson’s bottom lip. “See you.”

Tyson gets out of the car, shuts the door behind him, and then immediately realizes that he left his bag on the seat and has to turn around and knock on the window before Nick leaves. 

“Easy, there,” Nick says, grinning when Tyson sheepishly opens the door, and Tyson just grabs his bag and slams the door again and then waves like an idiot as Nick backs out of his driveway. Then he takes a deep breath and turns to Gabe.

“What do you want?” he says.

“Hi, Tyson, it’s nice to see you too,” Gabe says, straightening up and grinning like this is all one big goddamn game to him. Maybe it is. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t give a shit.

“Did you ever even actually care about me?” Tyson asks, the words flying out of his mouth before he can stop them. “Or was I just some fucking joke to you?”

Gabe’s face drops. “What the hell, Tyson?”

“I’m serious, Gabe,” Tyson says. He’s not even really mad, he’s just exhausted. “Why are you here? Why are you pretending like we can still joke around like that, after what you did?”

“I’m sorry for wanting my friend back,” Gabe retorts. His face is starting to get red like it does when he’s really mad or really drunk, and if Tyson were smart he’d stop. He’s never been good at self-preservation, though.

Tyson laughs a little, helplessly. “You had me, at your wedding, begging you to be with me, Gabe, and you said no. There is no _getting your friend back_ after that. There’s… you’re the fucking love of my life, okay? It doesn’t matter how much time passes.”

“So it’s always gonna be like this,” Gabe says flatly.

“Yeah!” Tyson tells him. “Probably! Sorry if you didn’t think of that when you were leading me on, making me think I had a chance even though you were fucking engaged.”

“Don’t get all judgmental on me now, Tyson,” Gabe snaps. His face is stormy. “You were right there with me.”

“Telling you to leave!” Tyson explodes. “Telling you to keep me out of it, to figure out what the hell you wanted and handle it like a goddamn adult! Message received, okay? I’m not what you want. I get it.”

Gabe stares at him for a few seconds, and then abruptly pivots. “Thanks for making me watch you make out with your boyfriend, by the way. Really nice.”

“What - the _fuck_ \- do you care?” Tyson hisses. “You can’t fucking be mad that I’m seeing someone else, Gabe! It’s been almost two and a half years since we were together. It’s been almost a year since you got _married_ , which, by the way, I’ve had to deal with at every fucking team event and party all season and it was horrible. It almost killed me, watching you with her.” He takes a very, very deep breath, and then adds, “And he’s not my fucking boyfriend, by the way, not that it’s even one bit your business.”

“I just don’t like the guy,” Gabe mutters.

“I don’t give a shit how you feel!” Tyson yells, vaguely aware that they’re standing in his driveway and he’s almost screaming but unable to stop himself. “I’m just trying to be fucking happy, Gabe!”

“Whatever,” Gabe says, and he looks downright miserable at this point, but Tyson still feels like he’s going to lose his mind.

“I’m sorry that me _being happy_ is so whatever to you, Gabe! Jesus, I - I fucking hate you, you know that? I really fucking do.” Right then, Tyson means it with every single bit of him, and the way Gabe’s face collapses makes him feel fantastic and sick in the pit of his stomach. “I want you fucking out of my life. I never want to see you again, I swear to God.”

“Sorry that we play hockey together and I can’t make that happen,” Gabe snarls back at him, face fully red now.

“I guess that has to change, doesn’t it?” Tyson says without really thinking about it. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he feels calmer. Surer. 

Gabe’s mouth drops open. “You - you said you wouldn’t ask for a trade.”

“I’m not going to,” Tyson says, mind racing ahead of himself now. “But after next season, my contract - ”

“Fuck,” Gabe says, like it just hit him. Like he’d never even imagined a future where Tyson wasn’t there every day. Tyson certainly hadn’t, but now that he’s thought of it, he knows it’s the only way.

“They aren’t going to offer me another anyway,” Tyson says nastily. “Not after I had to practically fucking beg for the last one. Jesus. That’s all I ever do for anything, isn’t it?”

Gabe is wide-eyed, starting at him, the color in his face receding little by little. 

“I’m done,” Tyson tells him, walking past him to the porch and digging out his keys to unlock the door. “I meant it. Get out of my life, go home to your pregnant wife.” He pauses and turns to look at Gabe, standing there in the driveway, and smiles a little, meanly. “Go do the right thing.”

Gabe’s face drops. He looks like he’s been punched.

Tyson goes inside without waiting for a response. He slams the door behind him and leans against it, heart racing, but for the first time in a long time after dealing with Gabe, he feels okay. Like maybe, eventually, he might end up being okay.


	2. Chapter 2

**FIFTEEN YEARS LATER**

 

The light from Gabe’s phone cuts through the 4 AM black of the room, but it’s fine; Gabe wasn’t sleeping. He doesn’t much these days, tells himself it’s because he’s the only one to hear it if the kids need anything in the night, but his kids aren’t really kids anymore and they aren’t here now, anyway. It’s just him, staring at the ceiling in a bed that feels too big.

He reaches for his phone, opens up the iMessage notification. EJ.

_Heard about the jersey retirement man congrats. finally a reason to get you back here_

_You know I’m not avoiding you_ , Gabe sends, and then sighs. That makes it all too easy to focus on what he didn’t say, who he is avoiding.

 _Duh_ , is all EJ says back, in a rare moment of not poking at the raw spot, the places Gabe keeps gathered up behind his ribs. A few minutes later, though, another message comes through, one that cuts through the bullshit and everything Gabe isn’t saying and gets right to the fucking point, which is so EJ. _Do u think he’ll go?_

_No_ , Gabe sends, because it’s the truth and he knows it. Tyson has his shit together, has built a real career for himself post-hockey; he isn’t aimlessly doing broadcasting work and feeling pieced together half the time, fragmented and achingly sad in a way that Gabe can’t get his head around and doesn’t know what to do with. Tyson has better things to do than go to the jersey retirement ceremony of a former teammate he doesn’t care about anymore, and that’s exactly what they both deserve.

 _Do u want him to?_ EJ asks, obnoxious and persistent and sharp as ever. Gabe both misses him and wants to reach through the phone and choke him. Before Gabe can reply, EJ is typing, so he waits. _Maybe u should ask him to._

Gabe stares at his phone for a full seven minutes, watches the clock progress from 4:03 to 4:10 before he sends a reply - _Maybe I should._ \- and puts his phone back on the nightstand, facedown this time.

 

-

 

Gabe looks at the once-familiar number in his phone for 17 minutes. He puts his phone face down and walks away from it and heats up leftovers from the night before, and stands there and eats them out of the plastic container and stares down his phone. When the food’s gone, he washes the container and dries it before going back to his phone, considers sending a text instead and tells himself he can’t do that for the fourth time, and then spends another five minutes stalling by doing the math on the time zones to make sure it’s not a weird time to call. He knows perfectly well what time it is there. Finally he takes a deep breath, bites the bullet, presses send and waits through three rings.

“Gabe,” Nate says when he picks up.

“Hey,” Gabe says. There’s silence. It’s awkward.

“It’s been a long time,” Nate tells him, and it’s blunt, but he’s talking; he hasn’t hung up. That’s already more than Gabe expected. “What can I do for you?”

“I, um.” Gabe swallows. “I need - I need Tyson’s phone number.”

“Why?” Nate asks. It’s a fair question, Gabe knows, but he still bristles at it, at the obviousness of the answer and the fact that he has no right to tell Nate to mind his own business. Nate is the one who cleaned up his mess; if anybody gets to ask him why, it’s Nate.

Still, Gabe can’t bring himself to offer more of an explanation than, “To talk to him.”

Nate sighs, doesn’t say anything for a minute. “You really think that’s helpful, at this point?”

“Look, I - I want him to be there,” Gabe says, fumbling for the right words. “For the retirement. I - maybe I don’t deserve it, but I need to try to make it right.”

“It’s been fifteen years,” Nate tells him. “You _don’t_ deserve it.”

“Please,” Gabe says. “I… you have no idea how much I regret it.”

Nate’s quiet for a long time, long enough that Gabe has to pull the phone away from his ear to make sure he’s still there, but when he speaks he sounds softer. “I’m not giving you his phone number. If you’re serious about this, go see him. I’ll give you the address, he’s almost always there.”

Gabe could’ve found the address himself, knows how to use Google just like everybody else, but he appreciates the gesture. More than that, he appreciates that Nate thinks there’s at least a chance Tyson won’t throw him out the second he sees him. He blows out a breath. “Okay,” he agrees. “Give me the address.”

 

-

 

Gabe’s Uber takes him to the Yaletown neighborhood of downtown Vancouver, near the arena that was the last place he saw Tyson, only a handful of games before the end of a season that had quietly sputtered out to nothing, before his knee injury took him down and he’d been forced to admit he couldn’t do it anymore. He’d taken a hard hit in that game, basically crushed up against the boards off a neutral zone faceoff and it hadn’t been his knee at all, but the coach and the trainers and the doctor had still asked. _Do you think it was the hit from the Vancouver game?_

No, Gabe had told them a hundred times. It wasn’t anything. He just couldn’t keep going.

“Hey, man, we’re here,” his Uber driver says, and Gabe blinks. They’re idling on the street, cars swerving around them. One honks as it flies past, and the guy lifts one hand in a silent apology. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Gabe says quickly, reaching for the door. “Thanks.” He gets out, hugs his coat more tightly around himself as the car heads away, and looks up at the building he’s only ever seen before in pictures on the internet.

Tyson’s restaurant. 

Gabe swallows as he goes inside, and when the woman at the hostess stand smiles at him, asks “Just one?” and reaches for a menu, he takes a deep breath, steels himself, and says, “Actually, is Tyson - Mr. Barrie here?”

Then he immediately feels stupid, because Tyson hated being called _Mr. Barrie_ , would go out of his way to tell people to call him Tyson and then treat Gabe to a five-minute diatribe about how someone’s last name doesn’t inherently carry more respect, it’s old fashioned, he goes by Tyson so isn’t it actually kind of rude, in a way, to call him Mr. Barrie. Gabe would listen indulgently and eventually end up kissing the last of the complaints out of Tyson’s mouth, promising _I’ll call you Tyson, if that’s what you want_ , whispering it lowly in his ear. 

Gabe shakes his head, as if he can flick the memory away like his son flicks water out of his hair after coming out of the pool, the sun drying his skin faster than a towel can. 

He feels gratified but also even stupider when the hostess smiles, says into her headset, “Tyson? You have a visitor.” She listens for a moment, and then says, “Yes, I think so.” Another pause. “Okay. Thanks.” 

Gabe’s prepared to be told he has three seconds to get the hell out before she calls the police, but all that happens is that she smiles again and says, “He’s this way.” 

It feels surreal as Gabe follows her through the restaurant; he’s seen pictures, the ones EJ showed him after the opening but mostly what’s on the website, in the Yelp reviews that he scrolls through sometimes, but it looks both bigger and smaller in person. It’s quiet, his arrival intentionally during the lull between lunch and dinner, but Gabe takes it all in and swallows around the lump in his throat that he thinks is pride, mostly. 

He tries not to think about regret, as a rule.

“Here you go,” the hostess says cheerfully as they reach the table closest to the kitchen, where Tyson is sitting with papers scattered around his laptop and a half-eaten plate of meatloaf. As she turns and walks away, Tyson looks up, and Gabe seriously considers rushing after her and begging her to stay.

He doesn’t, though, just stands there, face to face with Tyson for the first time in six years.

“Hi,” Tyson says finally. He looks good, and Gabe both hates that he noticed and wants to drink in the sight of him. Tyson also doesn’t look surprised, and Gabe should’ve known Nate would’ve tipped him off. Maybe that’s better, though. “It’s been awhile.” His matter-of-factness shocks a laugh out of Gabe, a blunt, too loud noise that he wants to take back as soon as it’s out, and Tyson just shakes his head, a smile playing at one corner of his mouth. “You want to sit?”

“Can I?” Gabe asks, and Tyson rolls his eyes.

“I’m not gonna throw you out, Gabe.”

So Gabe sits. Tyson gathers up the papers and drops them on the chair next to him, and then gestures to someone somewhere and a glass of water appears in front of Gabe. 

“You want anything else?” Tyson asks. He pauses. “On the house.”

“I’ll pay,” Gabe says automatically.

“Water’s free,” Tyson tells him. “It’s fine, I’ve got it.”

“You’re the house,” Gabe says nonsensically, it catching up to him suddenly that Tyson owns this place. “Holy shit.”

“Yep,” Tyson says, popping the p, folding his hands in his lap. “What’s up, Gabe?”

Gabe runs his hand over the back of his head. “I - they’re retiring my jersey. Next month.”

“I heard,” Tyson says, very calm, not a hint of nastiness in his voice. “Congratulations. Did you come all the way to Vancouver to tell me that?”

“Please come,” Gabe blurts, throwing the careful speech he’d rehearsed on the plane all the way from Stockholm out the window; all that matters now is getting a yes, making Tyson understand how important this is. “It won’t be the same without you. It won’t be anything without you.”

Tyson blinks.

“I want to talk,” Gabe rushes on. “About everything. I want to have a real conversation, I want you to know how - how fucking _stupid_ I know I was.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “God, I need you to know how sorry I am.”

Tyson is very, very still. He’s still for long enough that Gabe starts to worry that he had a stroke, and he nudges the glass of water towards Tyson. It bumps his knuckles and Tyson finally moves, picks up the glass and drains it in one motion. Gabe tries very hard not to look at his throat moving as he swallows, at the glimpse of skin behind the undone top button of Tyson’s shirt, at his lips, red and wet as he sets the glass back down on the table with a small thud.

Tyson wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand, and Gabe closes his eyes, just for a second. 

“I heard about your divorce,” Tyson finally says, which is maybe the last thing Gabe expected him to say, and now some of that familiar Tyson nastiness is creeping in, just a little. “Sorry about that.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all, and Gabe knows he isn’t but doesn’t call him on it.

“It was for the best,” he says, making eye contact with Tyson. “It never really worked. She knew all along what I was afraid to admit to myself, that I should’ve left with you instead.”

Tyson silently mouths something that Gabe is pretty sure is _Jesus fucking Christ_ , and suddenly his eyes are furious, the anger in his voice very carefully restrained. “You know, that sounds really nice, but why has it been six goddamn years, Gabe? You retired and you _disappeared_ , and the only reason I knew you weren’t dead is because sometimes I’d beg Nate to get updates from EJ.”

“You wanted to know how I was doing?” Gabe asks, in a very small voice.

Tyson’s eyes flash with anger. “If you think any of this was ever about my indifference to you, you’re a complete idiot. Yes, I wanted to know how you were doing. I didn’t like that I wanted to know, but I did, and you wouldn’t tell me yourself.”

“I was a coward,” Gabe says, loudly, and the waitress at the bar glances over. He lowers his voice, leaning in toward Tyson. “I didn’t deserve you, I figured you still wanted me out of your life, and I ran away, all right? I admit it. I hated that you left, and that I had to retire while you were still out there playing, and the only thing I could think to do was go back home and try to start over.”

Tyson stares at him, looks away and down at his hands and then back at Gabe, making eye contact until it’s too much and Gabe is the one to look away. “I had to leave,” Tyson says finally, his voice thick. “I was fucking still in love with you and I couldn’t - _stand_ it anymore, Gabe.”

Gabe stares at his hands, at the dark wood grain of the table, and wants to scream. “So we’ve both been miserable for fifteen years for no reason, then.”

“I wouldn’t say no reason,” Tyson says, back to nasty. “You were married for ten years, after all.”

“I’m sorry,” Gabe says quietly. “Jesus. I - believe me, if I could go back and change it all, I would, Tyson, I swear it.”

Tyson sighs very, very deeply. “No, you wouldn’t. What about your kids?”

“I - all right, fine, I just - do you not want me to wish I could fix it? To wish that I hadn’t been such a fucking horrible idiot, that I hadn’t hurt you like I did?”

“No,” Tyson says. “I just don’t want you to tell me things you don’t really mean.”

Gabe winces. “Okay. You’re right. I - I wouldn’t change that, but I hurt you and I knew what I was doing would hurt you, and… and it wasn’t just you that I hurt, Tyson, it was her too. I wish I could take that back.”

Tyson’s quiet for a minute, picking at the skin around his thumbnail, before he huffs out what’s maybe a laugh. “Yeah. I guess I was part of that too.” He laughs again, and it’s laced with bitterness. “God, we were assholes.”

“We were in love,” Gabe says softly, because he was and he is and God knows he was an asshole, he’s not making excuses for that, but he’s also a romantic and he can’t help himself. The past tense makes his throat ache and his eyes blur. 

Tyson looks up quickly, his eyes sharp as they meet Gabe’s, and then he sighs and his gaze slides past Gabe, out the window behind him. “Yeah.” They’re both quiet, the silence heavy with the things they can’t undo, and then Tyson clears his throat and looks back at Gabe. “Okay. I’ll go.”

“Wh - really?”

“Don’t tell me you changed your mind on me again,” Tyson says, still mean but not quite as sharp as before. He sees the look on Gabe’s face, though, and holds up his hands. “Okay, sorry, that one’s on me. Yeah. You’re right, I want to be there. It’s been fifteen years, it’s time to move on.”

“Right,” Gabe says, doing his best to ignore the sting of _move on_ , the urge to pull Tyson into a hug when they stand up and Tyson sticks out his hand. Instead he shakes it, like he would with any other old teammate he wasn’t that close to after catching up. It’s fine.

It isn’t until he’s halfway back to his hotel, the surprise of how well his first real conversation with Tyson in almost fifteen years went starting to fade, that he realizes he never got to the last part of his practiced speech: _I still love you. I want another chance. Please._

 

-

 

A week later, Gabe is back in Stockholm and his phone rings as he’s leaving the gym after an early morning workout. He pulls it out of the pocket of his sweatshirt; it’s not a number he recognizes, but he answers anyway. 

“Uh, hi,” Tyson says. “It’s me.”

Gabe stops dead in the middle of the parking lot, waves at an oncoming car apologetically. “Hi,” he says carefully. “How - I didn’t expect you to call.”

“Is it okay?” Tyson asks, like Gabe hadn’t expressly given him his number before leaving the restaurant that day for this purpose, told him he could call anytime, that he’d like to catch up. 

“Yeah, of course,” Gabe says, finally making it to his car. “So… what’s up?”

Tyson is quiet for a minute. “How are your kids?” he asks finally.

Gabe grins. “You called to ask about my kids?”

“No, I - help me out here a little,” Tyson says, sounding like he’s trying not to laugh himself. “I don’t know why I called. I guess I just wanted to.”

“I’m glad you did,” Gabe says, and he tells Tyson about Anna’s recent soccer tournament - “living in Europe again doesn’t have you calling it football, I guess,” Tyson comments - and Oscar’s science fair, and then he sighs. “I wish I could see them more often during the school year.”

“You don’t get to?” Tyson asks.

“I get summers,” Gabe says. “A week every December. If I lived closer I’d get weekends, sometimes, but…” He shrugs, forgetting that Tyson can’t see. “They live in Toronto.”

“Oh,” Tyson says. He pauses. “That must be hard. Sorry.”

“It’s better in the long run,” Gabe says, because it is, it’s what he’s told himself over and over, that it’s better for them if their mom is happy and their dad - well. He’s working on it, and he’s not pretending anymore, and Gabe figures that counts for something. They’re both quiet. The silence stretches out. 

Finally, Tyson says, “I’m sorry that - I could’ve called you, too. After the divorce. EJ told me right away, when it happened, I guess, I wanted to - but I didn’t. So.” His voice is halting, and he breaks off, clears his throat clumsily. “I shouldn’t have given you such a hard time about it.”

“You should’ve,” Gabe says, because he doesn’t want Tyson to give him an easy out for anything; he doesn’t deserve easy outs. “I should’ve called.”

“I should’ve too,” Tyson says. “I was - I’m the one who left, you know, I - ”

“I’m the one who got married,” Gabe counters.

Tyson is silent for a few minutes. “Yeah,” he says finally, very quietly. “You did.”

“I’m sorry,” Gabe tells him, chest aching with how much he means it. “I shouldn’t have - you deserved so much better than what I did.”

“I know,” Tyson says plainly. “But thank you. For saying that. I… I accept your apology.” It’s strangely formal, and Gabe closes his eyes against the sting of tears. 

“You don’t have to forgive me.”

Tyson laughs shortly. “I know that too. It hurts more not to, though.”

“You said not to tell you things I don’t mean,” Gabe says. “And you were right, that I don’t - I can’t regret my marriage because I got my kids.”

“I know,” Tyson says for a third time. “You don’t have to regret it, Gabe.”

“I regret what I did,” Gabe cuts in, firmly. “I would do it differently, if I could redo it. I wouldn’t - treat you like that, I wouldn’t let it go on like it did, I wouldn’t - ”

“Hey,” Tyson says. “I would do things differently too, if I could. It was never just you.”

“I forgive you,” Gabe blurts, because he does. “I know I’m really the one who made mistakes and maybe it doesn’t really matter, but Tys, I - I - ”

“Of course it matters,” Tyson says. “I’m glad you forgive me. I’m working on forgiving you, you know. I want to.” He pauses. “I think… you showing up last week helped.”

“Oh,” Gabe says dumbly. “Okay. Good.” He doesn’t say, _please let me spend the rest of my life making it up to you._ He doesn’t say, _please let me show you that it’s different this time._ Instead, he says, “Isn’t it late there?”

Tyson laughs. “Yeah. It’s after midnight. I had just gotten home when I called you.”

“You worked late,” Gabe observes.

“Restaurant life,” Tyson says. “I mostly work. There’s no one - I mean, the restaurant is my life. At first it had to be, to keep it open. Now I’m just used to it.”

“Did you ever get married?” Gabe asks, and then immediately wishes he hadn’t. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”

“I didn’t,” Tyson says. “No one ever stuck.”

“Sorry,” Gabe says again, feeling like a total ass. 

“Don’t be,” Tyson says. “I haven’t been alone for fifteen years, and… it was my choice. I have the restaurant, I have friends, Victoria has kids and I see them all the time.” He clears his throat again. “I don’t think marrying someone else would’ve really - I didn’t want to.”

“Oh,” Gabe says. 

Tyson inhales like he’s about to say something, hesitates, and then says, “I’m going to Denver a couple of days before the game. I have a few business things to take care of, I don’t know - if you’re there early too we could see each other.”

“I might be,” Gabe says, already making a mental note to get an earlier flight. “I’ll let you know. I’d like that.”

“Me too,” Tyson says. “I better go. Another early morning tomorrow, but. This was good.”

“It was,” Gabe agrees. “Thanks for calling. I’m glad you did.”

“Me too,” Tyson repeats. “Have a good day, Gabe.”

“Goodnight, Tyson,” Gabe says, and then he just sits in his car holding his phone for awhile, wondering how it’s possible for him to feel this happy and this sad at the same time.

 

-

 

Gabe gets to Denver two days after Tyson does and the day before Anna and Oscar are set to fly in, and he sits on the hard couch in his hotel suite and fidgets with his phone for almost half an hour before he gets the nerve to text Tyson: _Just got to Denver. Dinner?_

It is not a date just because it’s dinner, he tells himself firmly as he sweats and waits for an answer, which comes in exactly eight minutes, not that Gabe counted. He takes a deep breath before he swipes it open. 

_sounds good , 7 ?_

Gabe lets Tyson pick the place, like he always did because nobody knows food better, and at 7 he’s pushing open the door of a tiny ramen place right downtown. Gabe’s pretty sure he went here a few times, back when he lived downtown, before everything; he might’ve even been with Tyson one or two of those times. 

Tyson is already sitting at a table by the window, a beer and bowl of ramen in front of him and he raises a hand and offers Gabe a small smile as Gabe slides into the seat across from him. 

“Hi. Sorry, I was too hungry to wait.”

“Have you been here long?” Gabe asks, shrugging his coat off and picking up one of the plastic menus. 

Tyson shakes his head, sheepishly slurping up noodles. “No. Ten minutes. I’m staying at the Marriott two blocks away.” 

_Remember when you’d been together for six months and even though it was the middle of summer, you met him in Toronto and spent two days locked in a suite at a Marriott there?_ Gabe’s brain helpfully supplies, the memories rushing back to him in high definition. Gabe nods, clears his throat, pretends to read the Japanese description of the pork ramen intently. Tyson picks at a napkin, scoops up half a hard boiled egg with his chopsticks and eats it in one bite.

“Okay,” Gabe says, finally. “I think I know what I’m getting.”

“You really can’t go wrong,” Tyson says, tapping the table with his chopsticks.

He orders, and then they end up sitting in silence, Gabe staring at his glass of water dripping condensation onto the table. Tyson is picking at his food, a sure sign he’s nervous or uncomfortable or both, and Gabe is starting to think this is hopeless, but he’s here; he’s going to try to make the best of it.

“Tell me - ” he starts, right as Tyson says, “So are - ”

They both laugh. It’s awkward, but Gabe feels a little of the tension leak away. “You go,” he tells Tyson.

“I was just going to ask if your kids are coming,” Tyson says.

“Oh. Yeah.” Gabe smiles. “I worked it out, I haven’t seen them since Christmas so I really wanted them to be here. They’re flying down on Friday after school.”

“Alone, or… ?” Tyson’s voice is deceptively casual, but Gabe catches the slight crease in his forehead and knows what he really means. _Is their mom, the woman you left me for twice because you were a coward and couldn’t admit to yourself, let alone anybody else, that I’m the love of your life, coming with them?_

Gabe’s glad of the answer. “Yeah. Alone. They’ve been flying alone to see me since Oscar was 8, so a couple years now.”

“Oh.” Tyson smiles. “I’m kinda excited to see them. Is that weird?”

“No,” Gabe says, his chest warm. “Did you ever even meet Oscar? He’s only 11, he was born… well. When you were in Vancouver.”

“I saw him at Mikko’s wedding, but I didn’t really talk to you at Mikko’s wedding,” Tyson says. “He was really little.”

“That’s right,” Gabe says softly. He remembers. He doesn’t tell Tyson that he’d had an apology planned for Mikko’s wedding, that he hadn’t been able to deliver it because Tyson had avoided him all night and left early. He thinks, now, that it was too soon anyway, better that he didn’t get the chance then. “Well. They’ve changed kind of a lot.”

Tyson laughs, a real laugh this time, and the last of the tension breaks as Gabe grins at him, and then the waitress comes by with his food and from there it’s a surprisingly easy transition into a conversation about how Denver’s changed and not changed. His bowl is almost empty when Gabe remembers what he was going to ask.

“Hey. I want to hear about the restaurant.”

Tyson glances up at him as he scoops the last of the broth out of his bowl. “What about it?”

Gabe shrugs. “Why a restaurant?”

Tyson sets his spoon down and thinks about it. “I guess I felt like I had something to prove. You know, post-hockey, I didn’t want…” He trails off, staring out the window absently, and then snaps back and focuses on Gabe. “I wanted to do something and actually succeed. I didn’t want to just, like, be another shitty GM and fail and screw people over and, well. I know food. I know people. It made sense.” He clears his throat. “It’s been tough, and I’ve needed a lot of help from people who know a lot more about business than I do, but I’m proud of it.”

“I’m proud of you,” Gabe tells him. It feels right.

Tyson flushes. “Thanks. I like it a lot, so. It’s good.” He smiles, tentatively, and Gabe smiles back, and they just sit there smiling at each other until Tyson clears his throat again and looks away, takes a sip of water. “What about you, what are you doing?”

Gabe tries not to wince. “Some broadcasting. I have real estate investments and I coach a girls’ U14 hockey team in Stockholm, sometimes, the Sparks. Anna doesn’t have any interest in playing, she likes soccer, but it’s nice to… I don’t know. Help grow the game.”

“That’s so you,” Tyson says, shaking his head, but he’s still smiling. 

“You sponsor two girls’ peewee teams through the restaurant, don’t give me that,” Gabe says, grinning and grinning. 

Tyson blinks at him. “How’d you know that?”

Oh. Gabe shuffles through a mental Rolodex of possible excuses before realizing there isn’t a good one. He doesn’t want to lie to Tyson anyway. “I’ve checked it out online. Kept up, you know, with how it’s doing.”

Tyson’s face softens. “You have?”

Gabe shrugs, now incredibly self-conscious. “Yeah. I mean. I was never indifferent to you, either.”

“You could’ve just called,” Tyson says again, shaking his head, but his face is still soft and Gabe is pretty sure he’s trying not to smile. “Nate wouldn’t have given you my number, but I bet EJ would’ve.”

“Oh, yeah,” Gabe says. “I’m sure if I’d just called and been like, ‘hey, how’s the restaurant?’ that would’ve gone over super well.”

“Well. Maybe not.” Tyson is smiling now. “Maybe this way was better. Maybe… I don’t know, it’s been a long time and that sucks but maybe I needed that much time, you know? To be ready to listen.”

“Maybe,” Gabe allows. “I still wish I’d tried sooner, though.”

“Yeah,” Tyson agrees, after a prolonged silence and enough eye contact that Gabe feels itchy and exposed, sure that his feelings are all over his face. Tyson doesn’t say anything about it, though, just shrugs and finishes off his beer. “You did try, though. Eventually. Maybe that can be what matters.”

“I hope so,” Gabe tells him. 

Tyson just smiles, slides his arms back into his coat. “You ready?”

Gabe insists on paying, and after protesting twice Tyson lets him, stands back and holds the door for Gabe as they leave and then reaches out this time for a hug. Gabe wraps an arm around Tyson’s shoulders and tries not to hold on too tight.

“I’ll see you on Saturday,” Gabe tells him, taking a step back, squinting as a car that he thinks is his Uber approaches. “Thanks for dinner. I had fun.”

“You paid,” Tyson says. “Thanks for dinner, yourself.”

“Thanks for meeting me,” Gabe corrects himself.

“I’m glad I did,” Tyson says. He hesitates, smiles. “Almost like old times.”

“Almost,” Gabe agrees. Tyson waits, shuffling his feet on the pavement as Gabe gets in the waiting car, and lifts one hand in a wave as it pulls away. Gabe can see him framed in the back window until they turn the corner, and he spends the rest of the five minute ride back to his hotel repeating over and over, in time with his still-pounding heart, _not a date not a date not a date_.

 

-

 

Saturday is a blur of photo ops and shaking hands and the roar of the crowd, and in the end, Tyson is what Gabe will remember. EJ is there, of course, and Nate and Mikko show up to commemorate all the games they played on a line together, and it’s been so long since he’s seen any of them, but it’s Tyson’s smile as his jersey is raised to the rafters next to Nate’s, which of course went up almost immediately after he retired, that sticks with him. The rest of it is mostly just extra. 

Gabe catches up with Tyson after the game, before he can get too far; he’s in the hallway talking to Nate, and they both get really quiet as soon as Gabe walks up, which Gabe knows means they were talking about him. 

“I’m heading out,” Nate says, and claps Gabe’s shoulder over his fumbled protests that he didn’t mean to drive Nate off. “My flight home tomorrow is early, it’s okay. Tys, talk to you soon. Gabe…” He pauses. Gabe doesn’t know what to expect. “It was good to see you,” Nate finishes. 

“Yeah, man, you too,” Gabe says. “Hopefully it won’t be so long before we can see each other again. My fault, I know.” He clears his throat, and realizes he owes Nate this, too. “I’m sorry - for everything. I know what I did was awful and I’m… I’m working on making it right with people. I really hope one day you can forgive me.”

“It sounds like you’re doing pretty well,” Nate says neutrally. “That’s all I need.” He holds out his hand and when Gabe takes it, Nate pulls him into a hug. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” Nate says, a little cryptic, and then he gives Tyson a hug, mumbles something quiet to him, and goes. 

Gabe looks at Tyson, who shrugs, but his face is a little flushed and Gabe gets the distinct impression there’s something Tyson isn’t telling him. He lets it go, though; Nate and Tyson have always had their secrets, their quiet communication, and Gabe knows it matters that he respect it.

“I wanted to ask,” he says, getting to why he wanted to find Tyson in the first place. “Will you come to dinner with me and the kids?”

Tyson smiles. “Yeah. I’d like that. Anna’s a piece of work, by the way. We talked during the game.”

“I noticed,” Gabe says; Tyson and Anna had been deep in conversation for the entire first intermission. “I wondered what that was about. She’s smart. Really opinionated.” He grins a little. “She didn’t get it from me; I credit her mom and Bea.”

Tyson grins too. “She has my number, I’ll tell you that. She knows exactly who I am, wanted to know what I was doing.”

Gabe blinks, smile fading, and sighs. “I don’t know who told her any of that. Sorry. She worries, I think, that I’m sad and lonely.”

“ _Are_ you sad and lonely?” Tyson asks, steadily making eye contact with Gabe. 

“Sometimes,” Gabe admits. “I’m… trying to make things better.”

“I told her I’m here trying to forgive you,” Tyson says. “Sorry if I shouldn’t have told your daughter that.”

“It’s okay,” Gabe says. “We all need to be forgiven sometimes. How’s - how’s that going, you forgiving me?”

Tyson smiles, a small thing. “Pretty good.”

“Good,” Gabe says softly. Tyson is still looking at him, face calm and eyes bright, and Gabe wants so much. “Let’s go eat,” he says instead.

So they go to dinner. Gabe mostly stays quiet, watches as Anna and Oscar warm up to Tyson, and by the time their waiter clears the last plates away, Oscar is telling Tyson about the science experiment he did last week in minute, precise detail. It feels good; it’s been a hard year for Oscar so far, starting Grade 5 and not having Gabe around. There are letters from his teacher and the school counselor almost every week, and everyone is worried about his social skills. _Oscar is withdrawn and sullen_ , one said last month, and that had been almost an hour on the phone, talking about child psychologists and Gabe visiting more often.

The kid sitting across the table from Gabe, laughing and telling Tyson about the different types of dirt, is the exact opposite of withdrawn and sullen, and Gabe feels like there’s finally something he’s gotten right. 

“Thanks for inviting me along,” Tyson says as they leave the restaurant. 

“Can you come back to our hotel and watch TV with me?” Oscar asks, which is maybe the boldest he’s ever been in his life, and Gabe’s chest aches.

“I wish, but I have to go back to my hotel now,” Tyson tells him, and Gabe wasn’t expecting anything but his stomach sinks anyway. “I have to go home tomorrow, get back to work.” 

“Oh,” Oscar says unhappily, his shoulders slumping, and Gabe puts his arm around him. 

“Thanks,” Tyson says again, gaze flickering to Gabe and then away. “I… this was good. I’ll see you around, Gabe. Don’t be a stranger.” 

“You too,” Gabe manages. _Stay_ , he thinks.

There’s a car waiting, and Gabe watches just as sadly as his son as Tyson walks away from them and gets in, and that’s how it ends. Gabe, standing on the sidewalk with his two kids, watching the tail lights of Tyson’s Uber as it drives away.

“Dad!” Anna says urgently from behind him. She’s been quiet all night, and Gabe whips around, sure that something is really wrong, but she’s just standing there, her hands on her hips and a look on her face that reminds him forcibly of Bea.

“What?” He starts herding Oscar toward the rental car.

“That was your _moment!_ You just let him walk away!”

Gabe stops. “Anna. I don’t know what you - ”

“I’m 15, Dad, I’m not stupid,” she tells him haughtily. He gives her a look and starts moving again; the excitement of the night has gotten to Oscar, and he’s practically melting into a puddle as they walk across the parking lot. “That’s _Tyson_.”

“Who told you about Tyson, anyway?” Gabe asks, digging the keys out of his pocket and struggling with the unlock button for the rental. “He said you guys talked and you ‘had his number.’”

“Aunt Bea,” she says. Gabe is going to have a firm word with his sister. “She said he’s the love of your life.”

“That isn’t true,” Gabe says defensively, automatically, before he realizes that he has the ability to shut this conversation down, which is probably better than lying to his daughter. “Look. Get in the car, okay? Oscar, buckle your seatbelt. Aunt Bea has a lot of big ideas about a lot of things, but - ”

“She just said it’s sad,” Anna interrupts. “She knows you miss him.”

“Do I,” Gabe mutters, getting in the car.

“You looked at him like you do,” Anna says. “You looked at him like you love him.”

Gabe turns and looks at his daughter, sitting in the passenger seat and seeming for all the world like she knows what she’s talking about. He doesn’t know how she knows, but she’s right. “How do you know anything about love?”

“I probably don’t,” Anna says thoughtfully. “Not love like that, anyway. I don’t know, I just felt it.” She pauses, and adds, “Aunt Bea says I have very powerful intuition and am good at sensing other people’s feelings.”

“Okay,” Gabe says firmly. “Well. We’re not going to talk about it anymore, got it?”

“Got it,” she says reluctantly. It’s quiet in the car for a few minutes; when Gabe glances in the rearview, he sees Oscar, slumped against the back window, fast asleep. They’re sitting at a traffic light when Anna says, quietly, “I like Tyson, though.”

Gabe glances over at her. It rained earlier, the drops on the window casting shadows across Anna’s face. From here, she looks wise beyond her years and so, so like her mom. His chest aches a little. “Yeah?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. You seem happy with him, Dad.”

Gabe inhales, presses his foot on the gas as the light changes to green. He doesn’t have much to say to that. 

 

-

 

When they get back to the hotel, Anna and Oscar get ready for bed, talk Gabe into letting them watch a movie, and then both immediately fall asleep in front of the TV. Gabe smiles to himself, pushes himself up out of the armchair and carefully turns the TV off before slipping out of the room.

Then he paces. Around the coffee table in the sitting area of their suite, into his room, back out and into the kitchenette. He’s nursing a beer from the minibar and by this point it’s almost midnight, but he’s seriously considering going down to the fitness center to run for 30 minutes just so he feels like he has someplace to put all this nervous energy when there’s a knock at the door. He crosses the room and pulls it open.

It’s Tyson. Gabe’s heart skips three beats.

“I was thinking about our conversation when you came to Vancouver, and I realized for the first time that you thought I hated you all these years,” Tyson says, no preamble, not waiting to be invited in. Gabe closes the door behind him and turns, reeling a little. “I… was angry, and sad, and really fucked up, especially those first few years, and I know that I told you I hated you. I’m sorry for that because I never truly hated you, Gabe. I spent a few years trying to hate you, and it’s been at least ten years that I’ve been trying to feel anything about you besides what I’ve felt since the day I met you, and I can’t do it. I don’t know, maybe part of me does hate you a little for that.”

“What are you… talking about?” Gabe asks slowly.

“I’ve been in love with you for the last fifteen years,” Tyson says, huffily, like he’s annoyed he has to say it. “I mean, longer than that, it’s been more than twenty years at this point, but. Whatever. I’ve tried so goddamn hard to not love you, you know that?”

“I didn’t,” Gabe says softly. 

Tyson is animated now, really worked up as he takes two steps forward and gets right in close to Gabe. “It never worked! Not even a little. I never stopped loving you and I still haven’t stopped and it’s - Jesus, Gabe, it’s you. It’s still you, just you.”

Gabe doesn’t think, just reaches out, pulls Tyson in with a hand on either side of his face and kisses him, hard, before he can take any of it back. Their chests slam together and Tyson digs his fingers into Gabe’s waist and there’s no way, _absolutely no way_ , that this is real or that Gabe is going to mess it up again. 

Gabe can feel Tyson’s pulse under his fingers, a million beats a minute like a hummingbird, and when he drags himself away and presses his forehead against Tyson’s, they’re both panting.

“I should’ve said it when I came to see you in Vancouver,” Gabe tells him, voice low. “I should’ve said it a million times. I never stopped loving you either.”

Tyson’s breath catches and he makes a small noise that is half-gasp, half-sob, and pushes Gabe into the bedroom and doesn’t stop until the backs of Gabe’s knees hit the bed and they topple down onto it, holding onto each other desperately. Gabe’s brain is hazy. It’s not until Tyson kisses him, open-mouthed and tasting vaguely sweet, that something catches up with him.

“Wait,” Gabe says, dragging his mouth away from Tyson’s again, reluctantly. “Tyson, wait, hey, my kids are right in the other room.”

Tyson freezes. “Shit. I forgot.” He rolls off Gabe, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’ll stay, though, if you want. I - ”

“I didn’t mean no,” Gabe says, so in love. “I meant, let me get up and lock the door.” Tyson’s eyes are bright as Gabe crosses the room and locks the door, and then he turns back to the bed and points at Tyson. “And you have to be quiet.”

“Oh, Gabe. You should know better than that,” Tyson says mournfully, shaking his head. The corners of his mouth are tugging up in a smile. “It hasn’t been that long.”

Gabe just reaches for Tyson’s hand, pulls him up onto his knees on the bed and kisses him again. “It’s been way too long,” he mutters against Tyson’s open mouth, palming his ass with one hand, and Tyson gasps and arches into him. 

“Fuck, I know,” Tyson almost whispers back, and Gabe has to try hard not to smile so he fits his face into the curve of Tyson’s neck and breathes. Tyson smells the same, mostly; sweet and clean and like sandalwood, which Gabe remembers is his shampoo, some pretentious shit for curly hair that Tyson insisted he needed, _you wouldn’t understand, Gabe, not all of us have perfect Ken doll hair_. Gabe’s heart is beating out of his chest. 

Tyson tugs Gabe back onto the bed, pulling Gabe down and between his legs, and Gabe settles his full weight on top of Tyson and goes about kissing the breath out of him. Tyson tangles his fingers into Gabe’s hair, scrapes them over Gabe’s scalp exactly the way Gabe likes, and Gabe is the one who has to stop to breathe.

“Okay?” Tyson asks him, his hands already moving down to dance over the hem of Gabe’s t-shirt. Gabe isn’t sure if he’s asking if Gabe is okay, or if it’s okay if he takes Gabe’s shirt off, but either way, he nods, kisses Tyson deeply again. 

Tyson goes for the shirt, pulling it over Gabe’s head and tossing it away before he strokes his fingers over Gabe’s sides, up his chest, down his spine. It tickles; Gabe shivers, tries to press even closer. 

“Great,” Tyson mutters, almost to himself, and before Gabe can ask what he’s talking about, Tyson glances up and shakes his head. “It’s total bullshit that you’re still this hot. I get it already, uncle.”

“Enough,” Gabe says, and wrestles Tyson out of his shirt too. Tyson’s eyes are dark by the time Gabe throws it on the floor and settles himself back on Tyson’s chest, and he wraps both arms around Gabe’s neck and leans up and kisses him. Gabe feels like he’s heating up from the inside out, his dick hardening slowly, and he grinds down against Tyson and groans, feeling him against his hip. Tyson sighs, eyes fluttering closed and lips parting - _a Renaissance painting, but porn_ , Gabe thinks nonsensically before he sits up to get his sweats off.

“Mine too, c’mon,” Tyson pants once Gabe is naked, but then instead he sits up to put his arms around Gabe and kiss him again, which Gabe isn’t going to complain about. He thinks he’d be happy just kissing Tyson for hours. Eventually, though, he gets Tyson’s pants off too and Tyson drags him back down to the pillows, rubbing his hard dick against Gabe’s thigh in a not particularly purposeful way. Gabe thinks that maybe Tyson feels the same way he does about the kissing.

“Do you have lube?” Tyson asks finally, coming up for air after what feels like both a very long time and also nowhere near long enough. “I should have a condom in my wallet.”

“It’s not expired, is it?” Gabe asks, and Tyson gives him a look, pinches his side. 

“No, _Gabe_ , I switch it out regularly if I haven’t used it.”

“Of course you do,” Gabe says, shaking his head, but he’s incredibly fucking grateful for it, especially when he gets up to look through his backpack and finds a half full travel size bottle of lube buried in one of the inside pockets. “Actually, _this_ might be expired.” He glances up at Tyson, who’s lounging back against the pillows, watching him and lazily stroking his dick, and feels a thrill go through him. This is really happening. “Does lube expire?”

“I have no idea,” Tyson says, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t think so. Get over here.”

Gabe crawls back onto the bed, kisses Tyson’s neck and lets him inspect the bottle of lube for an expiration date, takes it back and slicks his fingers up once Tyson deems it fine to use. He concentrates on what he’s doing, but he can feel Tyson looking at him as he touches him carefully after so, so long. 

“Fuck,” Tyson says quietly, and Gabe’s eyes fly up to his face in case something’s wrong, but Tyson is still just watching him. “You - I missed this.” He looks embarrassed once he says it. 

“Don’t tell me you haven’t had sex in fifteen years,” Gabe says sarcastically, carefully adding a second finger.

Tyson makes a choking noise. “Jesus Christ. No, I missed _you_ , you idiot, are you happy?”

Happy doesn’t even begin to cover it, Gabe thinks, and he just leans down and kisses Tyson, keeps working his fingers in and out of him and tries to pour every single thing he’s feeling into what he’s doing. “I missed you too,” Gabe tells him, and Tyson squirms and moans a little and bites Gabe’s lip.

Gabe can tell when Tyson’s ready by the way he’s breathing shallowly, his chest flushed red and his dick heavy and hard against his stomach as Gabe teases a fourth finger against his rim, but he keeps going anyway; he wants to be careful, to be sure, to let Tyson call the shots on this. He’s so hard it hurts, his head hazy, but he grits his teeth and focuses on hitting Tyson’s prostate with his fingers every time he presses them in, on the breathy noises Tyson is making, on the obvious effort he’s making to be quiet that has heat pooling in Gabe’s gut. 

“Jesus, what are you doing?” Tyson finally mutters. “Let’s go, come on.”

“It’s Gabe,” Gabe says automatically, twisting his wrist before pulling his fingers out, and Tyson throws the condom at him.

“Dick! I should leave, that’d serve you right.” Gabe glances up at him as he rolls the condom on, and Tyson must see something in his face because he adds, “I’m not leaving, okay, I - ” and he hesitates, gasps like the breath’s been punched out of him when Gabe grips the headboard with one hand to steady himself and sinks into him. Gabe can relate: he drops his head between his shoulders, has to take a few deep breaths too at the feel of Tyson around him. “God _dammit_ , I love you,” Tyson says in a rush, only stumbling over the words a little. 

Gabe doesn’t trust himself to speak, doesn’t think he even has the words in this moment anyway, so he just kisses him again, teeth only a little sharp over Tyson’s bottom lip, before he starts to move. 

“Fuck,” Tyson bites out, and wraps his arms loosely around Gabe. His eyes are dark and fever-hot and he’s not blinking, and Gabe feels overwhelmed.

“You’re staring,” he gets out, dragging out of Tyson and slamming back in, and Tyson’s mouth opens in a silent groan.

“I don’t wanna miss this,” Tyson says, flushing, and Gabe has to kiss him again for that. Tyson sighs against his mouth, drags a hand up Gabe’s back and tangles his fingers in Gabe’s hair and clenches around him. Gabe moans, just a little. 

“Shhh,” Tyson tells him way too smugly, because it may have been fifteen years but Tyson is still Tyson. Gabe retaliates by snapping his hips forward, hard, shifting his weight to one side so he can reach down and pull Tyson’s thigh up, really dig his fingers into the thickest part of it, and now it’s Tyson who moans. 

Gabe smirks, point made, and goes about fucking Tyson in slow, long thrusts, determined to take his time. Tyson is stroking his hands over Gabe’s upper arms, mumbling under his breath, things Gabe mostly can’t catch but he picks out “yeah” and a “so good” once or twice. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off of Gabe.

“Come on, please,” Tyson mutters more audibly when they’re both panting and Gabe’s arms are starting to shake. “You - ” and he sucks in a breath because Gabe shifts his weight again, wraps a hand around his dick. “Gabe.”

“Yeah,” is all Gabe says, rocking his hips into Tyson in one final, stuttering thrust and coming. He gives Tyson’s dick a few quick strokes, gripping him tighter until Tyson throws his head back on the pillows and comes, his eyes finally squeezing shut. Gabe watches as he rides it out, wipes his hand off on the sheets and pulls out and finally lets himself collapse onto Tyson, blanketing him with his body.

“I love you,” Tyson says fiercely, his arms wrapped tight around Gabe again, and Gabe lifts his head up just enough to kiss him. 

“I love you,” he repeats back, voice rough, and Tyson holds him even tighter. 

They separate after a few minutes only enough to turn off the lights and shift under the blankets; Tyson curls up on his side next to Gabe, head on his shoulder and fingers roaming over his chest, and sighs. Gabe turns his head, kisses Tyson’s hair.

“I do have to get back tomorrow,” Tyson says quietly after a few minutes. “I have someone going out on vacation, they’ll need me.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Gabe tells him. “Just not right now.”

Tyson huffs out a laugh that Gabe can feel, and goosebumps pop up across his torso. “Okay.” He pauses. “I - we still need to talk about stuff. There’s a lot I need to say. But Gabe… I want this. You, us, I still - ”

“Me too,” Gabe says, heart clenching and stomach swooping, cutting off what he recognizes as Tyson just getting started on a classic Tyson ramble. “I know, we need to talk about a lot more, but - ” and then he yawns uncontrollably, eyes squeezing shut.

Tyson squeezes him a little, one arm thrown over his middle. “Go to sleep, Gabe. We’ll talk later.”

“See you in the morning?” Gabe mumbles, already fading, and Tyson kisses his chest. 

“Yeah. I’ll be here.”

 

-

 

Gabe sleeps through the night, his alarm waking him up the next morning, and it’s only as he’s absently noting how refreshed he feels that he realizes it, how long it’s been since he got even halfway decent sleep. Months, easily. Maybe years. He smiles to himself, glances over at Tyson next to him. Tyson’s face is smashed into a pillow, his mouth open; as Gabe watches, he wrinkles up his nose and makes a face in his sleep. Gabe smiles bigger and rolls onto his side to kiss Tyson’s shoulder, scoot closer. 

“It’s too early,” Tyson mutters as Gabe nudges him awake, but he instinctively curls into Gabe’s body, presses his nose against Gabe’s collarbone. 

“Kids’ll be awake soon,” Gabe says, his voice gravelly with sleep. “We should talk before then.”

“No,” Tyson says, yawning, but he rubs at his eyes and leans back. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Gabe says, still smiling. He feels like he might never stop smiling. “Look, here’s what I’m thinking. You’ve got a flight home today and I have to get Anna and Oscar back to Toronto tomorrow, but I’ll go to Vancouver from there. First flight I can get. We can talk.”

“Okay,” Tyson says. He leans in and kisses Gabe, and Gabe smiles into it, bringing his hand up to brush his thumb along Tyson’s jaw. “Do we have time for me to blow you before they wake up?”

“Probably not,” Gabe says mournfully. 

“Fatherhood has its sacrifices,” Tyson says sagely. “Then I’m going to take a shower, get dressed, and order a bunch of pastries from room service.”

“Oscar likes chocolate doughnuts the best,” Gabe tells him, propping himself up on his elbows and enjoying the view as Tyson gets out of bed. For as long as it’s been, Tyson looks only marginally older, and Gabe wants so badly to get his hands on him, to take his time learning and marking up this body he knows but has never really touched. He takes a deep breath, telling himself that it’s okay. He has time.

“Kid after my own heart,” Tyson says, grinning at Gabe before gathering up his clothes and heading into the en suite bathroom. The shower starts running and Gabe rolls out of bed, pulls his sweats on, finds the condom on the floor and throws it out, and then lies back on the bed and tries to get his head around the last seven hours. 

He doesn’t think he can, yet. He thinks about texting someone but doesn’t know who or quite what he’d say, and part of him wants to keep this to himself, for now. He thinks maybe for now he just wants to hold it close and feel grateful for it, for the second chance - maybe third, or even fourth, he corrects himself, wincing a little with embarrassment and guilt - he never thought he’d get.

Tyson is sitting cross-legged on the bed when Gabe comes out of the bathroom after they’ve swapped places and he’s showered; he’s on the hotel phone, ordering what Gabe is relatively sure will be way too much food for four people. He looks up at Gabe and smiles, and then, after hanging up, says, “I’ll follow your lead, but what do we tell your kids about me being here?”

Gabe rubs a towel over his hair and thinks about it. “Well. Give Oscar a doughnut and he won’t question it. Anna will know what’s going on no matter what you tell her.”

“So…” 

“‘Surprise, Tyson’s here’?” Gabe offers. 

Tyson grins and gets up, coming around the end of the bed to stand toe to toe with Gabe, sliding his palms over Gabe’s still-bare chest. “Okay.”

Gabe wraps one arm around Tyson’s waist as he leans down to kiss him, but drags himself away before they can get too wrapped up in each other. “Comb your hair, at least. And put your socks on, c’mon.”

“The hair’s a losing battle,” Tyson says, craning his neck up in a plea for one last kiss. Gabe isn’t in a position to refuse him. “How about you put a shirt on?”

“I’m getting to it,” Gabe says mildly, finding one in the pile next to the TV. He’s just tugged it on when there’s a knock at the door and he heads out to answer, reminding Tyson, who’s gotten caught up on his phone, to put his socks on as he goes. Out in the sitting area, he can hear the TV going in the room the kids are sharing, so as soon as the pastries have been dropped off he knocks, pokes his head in. They’re both awake; Oscar is sitting up in his bed watching cartoons, and Anna is lying in her bed, on her phone.

“There are doughnuts,” Gabe tells them, and Oscar throws the blankets back and gets out of bed instantly. Anna sits up. “There’s also a surprise.” 

Oscar runs past him out into the sitting area, and Gabe hears him yelp, “Tyson?!”

Anna puts her phone down. “Tyson’s here?”

“Yep,” Gabe says, faking casual like he never has before. In this moment, as Anna narrows her eyes and considers this and he pretends he isn’t sweating, he understands what people mean when they say teenagers are ruthless and terrifying.

“How long has he been here?” she asks finally, after what felt like a year but was probably only a few seconds.

Gabe gives her a look. “Come have a doughnut.”

“ _Dad_ ,” she says.

“ _Anna_ ,” he says back, and goes out to find Oscar and Tyson. They already have the TV turned on, playing the same cartoon Oscar was watching in the bedroom, and are cutting one of each different type of doughnut into pieces so they can sample them all. Gabe takes a plain old-fashioned and sits down and tries not to smile too much as he watches them. 

Anna sidles out of the bedroom a few minutes later and selects a raspberry Danish, which prompts Tyson to smile at her and say, “See, I knew someone would like those!”

“I like the raspberry,” she says. “Thanks.”

“I’ll remember that,” Tyson says easily. “Whoa, Oscar, that’s my half of the maple bacon bar, hands off.”

Anna comes over and curls up on the couch next to Gabe, eating quietly as he half watches the cartoon and half watches Tyson and Oscar, and when her Danish is gone she asks softly, “Are you happy, Dad?”

Gabe looks over at her, smiles and wraps his arm around her shoulders. “Yeah. I’m very happy.”

 

-

 

Gabe gets Anna and Oscar safely back to Toronto, leaves them with hugs and promises to see them again soon and a lump in his throat, and manages to sneak onto the last flight to Vancouver on Monday night. He lands just before 9 PM and texts Tyson as he’s heading out of the airport to grab a car. 

_Are you still working?_

He doesn’t get a reply for almost ten minutes, which is an answer on its own, but his phone eventually chimes. _haha its barely 9 that’s a funny joke_

_So yes, then?_

_yea . see u soon_

Gabe smiles, locks his phone and leans his head back against the headrest and watches Vancouver start to appear out the window, glittering towers of light in the inky sky. The restaurant is busy and loud when he gets there, clumps of people waiting in the entryway for tables, but the same hostess is working and when she sees Gabe, she smiles. 

“He told me to save you a seat at the bar because you’d be hungry,” she tells Gabe, pointing it out. “All the way down on the end. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Thanks,” Gabe tells her. “What was your name?”

“Stephanie,” she says.

“Thanks,” he repeats. “I’m Gabe.”

The smile she gives him lets him know that she knew that, but all she says is, “Nice to meet you. I hope we see more of you around here.” Then she’s gone, gathering up menus and seating a table as Gabe makes his way over to the seat at the end of the bar. The bartender is a woman in her early 30s, maybe, with a nose ring and a brightly colored peacock tattoo on one forearm, who smiles at Gabe almost as soon as he sits down. She reminds him of Bea; he likes her immediately.

“Are you Gabe?”

“Yeah,” he says, impressed with how quickly Tyson got the word out to his staff to expect him, wondering how much they know. “Hi.”

“I’m Hailey,” she says. “I have strict instructions to serve you whatever you want and not let you pay for it.”

“Fine, but I’m tipping 100%,” Gabe tells her, and she throws her head back and laughs, full-bodied.

“I like you. What’ll it be?”

Gabe is working his way through a plate of mushroom ravioli - “it’s the special,” Hailey explains, when it’s brought out to him. “We always have to push the special. You’re not exempt.” - with a Heineken sweating on the paper coaster in front of him when Tyson finally has a minute to stop. He’s been back and forth across the restaurant a hundred times in the twenty or so minutes that Gabe’s been sitting there, checking on tables and making people laugh as he clears plates and fills water glasses. Gabe has never worked in a restaurant, but watching Tyson he can tell Tyson is good at this. 

“Hi,” Tyson says, squeezing Gabe’s shoulder, hesitating for the briefest of seconds before leaning in and kissing the corner of his mouth. It’s quick and unexpected enough that Gabe doesn’t have a chance to reciprocate, and Tyson ducks his head, cheeks pink.

“Hi,” Gabe says, smiling. He gestures to the ravioli with his fork. “This is really good.”

“My produce guy gave me a discount on mushrooms so they’re in everything this month,” Tyson says, rolling his eyes. “We’re sick of it. It is good, though.” He digs in his pocket and pulls out a set of keys. “Here. I’ll be another hour or two at least, you go ahead to my apartment and get settled.”

“You sure?” Gabe asks. “I can get a hotel.”

Tyson gives him a look. “Don’t be stupid. Stay with me.”

“Okay,” Gabe agrees easily, his chest warm, and takes the keys. 

“Have Hailey let me know when you’re heading out,” Tyson says. “I’m going to kiss you again now, so get ready.”

Gabe kisses him back this time, smiling into it, and then Tyson’s gone, zigzagging back across the restaurant; Gabe watches him go, and when he turns back to his food Hailey’s watching him. 

“He’s good at this,” Gabe comments as she switches out his empty beer bottle for a new one. “Thanks.”

“He really is,” she says. “He’s one of the main reasons this place does so well. Our regulars love him.” She pauses, wiping the bar down. “He could be here less, though, and we’d be fine. Better than fine. I’m glad maybe he’ll stop working 12 hour days all the time now.” She gives Gabe a look as she says it and he just smiles, takes a sip of beer. 

Gabe heads out around 10:30; it’s still pretty full, and Tyson pauses only for a minute, to give Gabe his address and promise he’ll try to get out within an hour. 

“It’s okay,” Gabe assures him, and then, because he can, he leans in and kisses Tyson slow and lingering, hands cupping his face. “I’ll be waiting.”

“That was dirty pool,” Tyson says indignantly, blinking rapidly as Gabe lets him go, and Gabe shoots him a grin and heads out, pleased with himself. 

Tyson’s apartment is close, a five minute walk, on the fourteenth floor of one of Vancouver’s many high rise buildings. Gabe lets himself in and turns on a few lights, opens the blinds and takes in the view: the city, spread out below and sparkling, rushing up to meet the stadiums and the bridges and water beyond. It’s beautiful. He wanders through the apartment, familiarizing himself with the kitchen and peeking into the two plainly decorated guest bedrooms but leaving Tyson’s bedroom alone, and by 11:45 he’s on the couch trying to figure out the TV when he hears a key in the lock and Tyson comes in. 

He looks tired, but his face brightens when he sees Gabe sitting there, and he takes off his shoes and coat and comes over to drop into the spot next to him. 

“Hey,” Gabe says. “Busy night.”

Tyson nods. “Yeah. I’m beat. I told them I wasn’t coming in tomorrow until dinner, though. I figured we can talk in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Gabe says, presses a kiss to Tyson’s temple. “I’m glad you’re going in later. Hailey said you usually work 12 hour days.”

“Usually,” Tyson agrees; he tries to stifle a yawn in his palm, but Gabe catches him. 

“She also said you don’t need to work 12 hour days,” Gabe says. “I - we can talk tomorrow. I just don’t want… you’ll burn yourself out, Tys, and I don’t want us to end up fighting about how much you work because we never see each other.”

“I know,” Tyson says reluctantly. “You’re right. Look, it’ll be a hard habit to break, I can’t go from this to 40 hours, but if we’re doing this then I… will do my absolute best to scale my hours back, okay?” Gabe nods, and Tyson pauses and says, “I told you before that when we first opened, I had to work this much to keep it open, and that’s mostly true. But we opened a year and a half after I retired, too, and…” He trails off, shrugs. “There was no one to come home to.”

Gabe’s heart aches a little at the thought, Tyson pouring himself into the restaurant so that he didn’t have to come back to a dark, empty apartment. “There is now,” he says firmly, and Tyson takes his hand, leans into his side. “Listen,” Gabe starts, because he agreed they would talk tomorrow and that’s fine; it’s late and he can tell how tired Tyson is, it’s not the time for a serious conversation, but this is all he thought about on the flight from Toronto. He wants to get it out. “Tyson. I want to move here, to Vancouver.”

Tyson tips his head back, blinks sleepily at him. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.” Gabe kisses his forehead, this time. “You’re falling asleep on me here.”

“Mmm,” Tyson hums. “Let’s go to bed.”

Gabe lets Tyson lead him down the hall to his room; they brush their teeth at the same sink, hips bumping, and when they crawl into the bed Tyson scoots close and wraps himself around Gabe, lets himself be held. 

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Tyson mumbles into the dark, long after his breathing has evened out and Gabe was sure he was asleep. “It’s just - I wanted this for so long and thought I’d never get it back.”

“Me too,” Gabe says softly. “Sorry I was an idiot for so long.”

“That’s the last one you get,” Tyson says sleepily. “Well, after tomorrow. We’re gonna talk and then you’re gonna stop apologizing all the time and we’re gonna start over. Got it?”

“Got it,” Gabe says, smiling, and holds Tyson tighter.

 

-

 

Gabe wakes up the next morning with Tyson plastered to his back, his fingers trailing absently over Gabe’s chest and his hard dick pressed against Gabe’s ass, and when Gabe rolls over and kisses him Tyson goes pliant immediately, mouth opening under Gabe’s, a small, soft noise escaping him. They jerk each other off in unison, hands bumping and Tyson stretching up to keep kissing Gabe, and when Gabe comes there’s sunlight behind his eyelids and the only thought in his mind is _Tyson Tyson Tyson_. He wants this to be every morning for the rest of his life, and when he says as much, Tyson grins, wipes come on Gabe’s stomach and ignores Gabe’s resulting squawk. 

“No complaints from me, bud. I am going to blow you eventually, though.”

“That’s so romantic,” Gabe grumbles, but he’s trying not to smile and he thinks Tyson knows it.

“I’ll show you romantic,” Tyson says, and gets out of bed. “You want waffles?”

“Okay,” Gabe says automatically, and as Tyson goes into the en suite, what Tyson actually said hits him. “Wait, are you offering to cook me waffles, or…?”

Tyson pokes his head out of the bathroom, looking affronted. “Gabriel, I own a restaurant.”

“You don’t run the the kitchen!” Gabe argues. “Since when do you cook?”

“I have my executive chef show me things now and then,” Tyson admits. “Just basics, I don’t know, it seemed stupid not to.”

“I’m impressed,” Gabe says; he means it, and he thinks Tyson knows that, too, but Tyson just makes a face at him and goes back into the bathroom.

By the time Gabe drags himself out of bed Tyson is showered, dressed, and in the kitchen, fucking around with an honest to God waffle iron; a large part of Gabe was still expecting frozen Eggos. He glances up when Gabe shuffles in wearing only his underwear, flaps his hand at him. 

“Get out of here, no, go shower and put your clothes on. I can’t work with you staring at me.”

“A chef can cook in any circumstance,” Gabe says, moving up behind Tyson and wrapping his arms around him, and Tyson makes a small noise and leans back into Gabe, just for a second. 

“That’s why I’m not a chef,” he manages, and Gabe grins into his hair, tucking his hand up under Tyson’s t-shirt and stroking his fingers over Tyson’s stomach, feeling the muscles under his hand jump and flex.

“Stop,” Tyson says weakly, and Gabe drops his hand and kisses Tyson’s neck, right at the pulse point. “Jesus, Gabe, I swear, I - fuck. How do you still do this to me?”

“Just lucky, I guess,” Gabe rumbles in his ear, and Tyson shivers and wrenches himself away from Gabe.

“ _Stop_ , go shower, let me just make you a damn waffle in peace. We can do this later.” Tyson is giving him a determined look, the cute one that Gabe was never able to resist and Tyson never actually meant, but Gabe grins at him and goes. By the time he makes it back out, dressed, his hair still wet from the shower but combed, Tyson has produced a plate of waffles. Gabe takes one tentatively, pokes at it. It seems edible. 

“Just eat it,” Tyson says, watching him. “I found jam for you, even.” He nudges a jar of raspberry jam and a can of Reddi Whip toward Gabe, and Gabe feels his heart clench.

“You remembered,” he says, beaming up at Tyson as he spoons jam onto a waffle, and Tyson rolls his eyes. 

“Of course I do, you were only ever insufferable about it.” Tyson puffs his chest out and deepens his voice in what Gabe guesses is supposed to be an impression of him. “‘Real Swedes only eat fruit on their waffles, Tyson, I’m not an embarrassment to my country.’”

“There’s literally no way I ever said that,” Gabe tells him, adding whipped cream, even though it does sound kind of familiar. “And either way, you _remembered_.”

Tyson’s face softens as he watches Gabe cut into his waffle and take a bite. “Yeah, I did.”

The waffle is only a little undercooked in the center; otherwise it’s delicious and Gabe has two, Tyson smirking at him but staying quiet as he goes for the second one. When Gabe finally pushes his plate away, Tyson sets his fork down and straightens up. 

“Okay. Tell me why you want to move here. Why is that the right choice?”

Gabe blinks. “Well - the restaurant is here, for one.”

“Your work is in Sweden,” Tyson counters, and Gabe wants to kiss him for being so stubborn. 

“I’m not really very settled in what I’m doing,” Gabe admits. “I don’t… have a purpose, Tyson, and that’s a bigger conversation but what it means right now is that I can easily leave what I’m doing.”

Tyson considers this. “Your family is there,” he says, after a minute.

“I know. That part is hard. But you’re here,” Gabe says. “My kids are in Toronto. Tyson, do you realize how that would change things, me being here instead of in Stockholm? I could see them once a month, at least. They could come here for weekends, school breaks sometimes, holidays besides just Christmas.” He pauses, suddenly unsure. “If that’s - is that okay? I want that to be okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Tyson says immediately, leaning toward Gabe and grabbing his hand. “They’re welcome here all the time. The guest bedrooms are theirs, we don’t need guest rooms, I’ll make my parents stay in a hotel when they visit, that’s fine.”

Gabe laughs, and then sobers again, squaring his shoulders. “I know that you just want to make sure that I’m sure, that I won’t end up regretting a move here. I won’t. I want to be with you, and I’m serious about it, and I’m not going to bring you being away from the restaurant even part time into the conversation. That’s… no. This is what you deserve.” 

“I love you,” Tyson tells him, sliding off his stool and coming to stand between Gabe’s legs, leaning in and kissing him with both hands on Gabe’s face. “I really, really do.”

“I love you too,” Gabe says. “Is it settled, then? I’ll move here, I’ll figure out what to do next, your career isn’t affected.”

“Yeah,” Tyson says. He lets go of Gabe and sits back down. “There’s just - okay, I feel kind of stupid saying this, but I need to get it out, it - ”

“What is it?” Gabe asks softly, reaching for his hand and holding on. 

Tyson takes a deep breath. “You told me you loved me before, and you broke up with me. And then you told me you loved me again, and you turned around and picked someone else, and I… it was a fight, getting over that. It took me a long fucking time, Gabe. You know that, how long it took. And I - I’m not saying that I don’t believe that you love me now, or that I don’t trust you. I do. But I need you to tell me that you’re not changing your mind again.” His voice wavers a little, once or twice in the middle, but he’s looking steadily at Gabe, not backing down, and Gabe loves him so much, is so proud of him he might burst from it.

“Never,” he says forcefully, squeezing Tyson’s hand. “I promise you. You’re it for me, and that’s always been true, and I’m never going to be stupid enough to forget it again. I’m sorry I ever did.”

Tyson lets out a breath; Gabe can see the tension run out of his shoulders. “Thank you for saying it.”

“I will spend the rest of my life saying it if you want me to,” Gabe promises. “Anything, Tys, I swear it.” 

“That’s enough,” Tyson says, and “You being here is enough,” and it’s Gabe who gets up and kisses him this time, Tyson clinging to him like they’re adrift at sea. 

 

-

 

“I want to tell you some things,” Gabe says later. They’ve been sitting on the couch for the last few hours, swapping stories and catching each other up on the last decade, and there’s been a voice stuck in the back of his head the whole time, nagging at him, pushing him to do this. It sounds like a cross between EJ and Bea, actually, which Gabe will never, ever tell either of them, because he would never live it down.

“Okay,” Tyson says, his hand stilling in Gabe’s hair, and Gabe sits up, turns to face him. “Bad things?”

“Not bad,” Gabe says carefully. “Honest things. I… I want to give you an explanation for it all. Why I broke up with you in the first place, why I got married, why it’s been fifteen years.”

“Oh,” Tyson says. Gabe can see him take a deep breath. “Yeah, okay. Please.”

Gabe doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, then, trying to form thoughts and put them into words, and Tyson reaches out for his hand, lacing their fingers together.

“I never thought - ” Gabe finally starts, and then he has to stop and clear his throat and compose himself. Tyson waits patiently, squeezes his hand. “I never thought I’d find someone like you,” Gabe manages, and Tyson nods a little, encouragingly. The lump in Gabe’s throat gets a little easier to talk around. 

“I always just thought, you know, I’d meet some nice girl and we’d fall in love and get married and have kids and it would be easy,” Gabe admits. “I guess it felt like that’s what I was supposed to do. And then I’m 19 years old and I meet you, you’re loud and funny and sweet and just so unabashedly _you_ , and suddenly you feel like everything I’ve ever wanted. You… you blew my world wide open, Tyson, and I was so fucking scared. I thought I’d ruin everything. Until I met you, playing hockey was the only thing I’d ever really wanted, and we were teammates, and that felt really precarious there for awhile, and part of me thought, well, there’s no way I can ever have both of these things.”

“Gabe,” Tyson says softly. 

“I loved you so, so much, and I knew how much you loved me, and I was scared,” Gabe says plainly, because it’s the truth, the entire ugly, stupid truth that he spent so much time running from, and he knows that facing it completely is what he owes to Tyson now. “I met Sarah and I - I liked her, and maybe I loved her for awhile, and I convinced myself it was easier for both you and me if I did the… not the right thing, but what I thought I’d do with my life before we met. I broke up with you so suddenly and without explanation because I think deep down, part of me knew that if I tried to be kinder, explain myself more, there’s no way I ever would’ve managed to go through with it.” Tyson takes a deep, ragged breath and closes his eyes, and Gabe’s chest aches. He squeezes Tyson’s hand in his, waits for Tyson to return the gesture before he keeps talking. “And then it just got out of control. The engagement and the wedding happened so fast, and I was too scared to stop it, which I know was stupid and selfish and fucked up, and I regretted it almost immediately. I just wanted you, Tys.”

Tyson’s eyes are red now, and Gabe absently realizes he’s crying too, a few tears rolling down his face. He doesn’t wipe them away, just sniffs and keeps talking.

“You were so mad at me, though,” Gabe says, and Tyson laughs a little, almost more like a hiccup. “I knew I deserved it, and I thought I would just give everything some time and then figure out what to do, but then - then there was Anna, and I couldn’t leave a baby.”

“I knew you couldn’t either,” Tyson says, wiping his eyes. “That’s when I knew that it… there wasn’t any changing it.”

Gabe nods. “I wanted to… to fix it, to talk to you, to tell you the truth of it so many times, but you’d told me how much you wanted me out of your life, and you left, and I - I don’t want to seem like I’m putting that on you. It’s not your fault that I did so much fucked up shit, and I don’t blame you for being mad or leaving. But I deserved that, and it was a very clear ‘do not talk to me ever again’ message that I felt like I had to respect, and time kept passing, and… suddenly I realized it had been fifteen years.” He takes a deep breath. “Every single day since the divorce was finalized I woke up and thought about you and wanted to call, but I was still scared and I’m so sorry.”

“What made you finally do it?” Tyson asks softly.

Gabe laughs a little. “Being your teammate. I got the news, you know, we’re retiring your jersey, and all I could think about was you. I meant what I said the first time we talked, that you being there was the only real thing that mattered to me about it.”

Tyson pushes himself forward until he’s almost in Gabe’s lap and strokes his hand over Gabe’s cheek, wiping away the tears that are still all over Gabe’s face. “You’re the best teammate I ever had,” he says, kissing Gabe’s forehead and left eyelid and nose. “The best - the only one, Gabe.”

Gabe kisses him, one hand coming up to cradle the back of Tyson’s head, his other arm looping around Tyson to pull him closer, and Tyson sighs against his mouth, kissing and kissing him.

“I love you,” Gabe says softly between kisses. “I - God, I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Tyson says, and Gabe sinks back into the couch until they’re lying there tangled up together, Tyson in his arms, still kissing him like it’s the only thing that matters in the world. 

“Don’t you have to go to work soon?” Gabe manages when Tyson sits up on his thighs and takes off his shirt, and Tyson glances at his watch and shrugs.

“Forty minutes. I can be late, it’s fine, I’m not - we have a lot of time to make up for,” he says, undoing Gabe’s jeans, and, well. Gabe isn’t going to argue. Except for -

“Okay, just, my knee is killing me like this,” he admits, and Tyson immediately looks concerned, eyebrows drawing together as he gets up, holds out a hand to pull Gabe to his feet.

“Is it bad?”

“Only when I try to have sex on a couch like I’m still 24 and have two good knees,” Gabe says, bending his knee carefully to ease the soreness. “Those days are over, probably. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

“We’ll find other places,” Tyson says, leaning up to kiss him again. “Do you still want - ”

“Of course I do,” Gabe says against his lips. “If you’re serious about being late to work, then I - ”

“I’m there all the time,” Tyson says. “They can start one Tuesday dinner service without me.”

“Good,” Gabe says, cupping Tyson’s face in his hands to kiss him again, and Tyson practically shoves him down the hall to the bedroom, working his hands up under Gabe’s shirt and pulling it off him as they go. Gabe pulls Tyson down on the bed on top of him, hands stroking over Tyson’s back, trying to press him closer. 

“Love you,” Tyson manages against Gabe’s mouth, shifting his hips for a better angle and grinding down on Gabe’s thigh, and Gabe digs his fingers into Tyson’s shoulders and groans.

“Fuck, love you too, I - what do you want?”

“Anything,” Tyson mumbles, still kissing Gabe’s chin. “Just you.”

Gabe feels like the breath’s been knocked out of him, and he presses his face into Tyson’s neck. His hands might be shaking.

“Actually, no, I want to blow you,” Tyson is saying now. “Then I don’t care, anything is good, but I just - Gabe, please, if I don’t get my mouth on your dick I really think I might die.”

“Don’t want that,” Gabe says, still feeling a little unsteady and overwhelmed but in the best way, smiling up at him and brushing his thumb over Tyson’s jaw. “Yeah. Of course you can.”

Tyson lets out a sigh of relief, and Gabe makes a mental note to absolutely never stop making fun of him for being the most dramatic person alive, but then Tyson is fumbling with Gabe’s clothes, tugging the rest of them off and settling himself over Gabe’s thighs and just - _breathing_ near his dick, softly planting kisses along the inside of his thighs, and Gabe already feels like he’s about to burst out of his skin. 

“Is your knee okay like this?” Tyson asks suddenly, glancing up at Gabe, as if Gabe is even aware that he has knees right now.

“Yeah, fine, can you just - ah, shit,” Gabe gasps, cutting himself off on a whine because Tyson wraps one hand firmly around the base of his cock, licks up the length of him and takes him into his mouth, all the way down until Gabe can feel his dick hit the back of Tyson’s throat. “Jesus fucking - I’m,” and then he just stops talking because Tyson hums and swallows around him, twisting his hand a little, and Gabe feels like he might black out. All he can think about is the overwhelming heat of Tyson’s mouth, and he tries to stay still but it’s so good, he can’t really help the way his hips are jerking. After a few minutes he chances a glance at Tyson and immediately wishes he hadn’t, because the sight of Tyson’s closed eyes and content face and his lips, red and wet, wrapped around Gabe’s dick, have him horrifyingly close to coming already. He squeezes his eyes shut and tangles his fingers in Tyson’s hair, and Tyson moans around his dick.

“You’ve - too much,” Gabe pants, giving up on keeping his eyes shut and staring at the ceiling instead, and Tyson fumbles around with his free hand to find Gabe’s on the blankets. He wraps their fingers together, squeezing Gabe’s hand little and using his tongue, and really. This is embarrassing, how Gabe is already very much at the point of not being able to hold out for much longer. “Tyson, I - ”

“Mm,” Tyson hums again. “Mm-hm.” He twists his hand and that’s it, Gabe groans and comes and Tyson pulls off before he’s quite finished, getting the last of it on his mouth and chin. He swipes at it with his thumb as he sits up, licks his thumb off like he can’t get enough, and watching him is almost too much for Gabe to take. 

“Jesus,” Gabe says weakly. He feels like Tyson just sucked his brain out through his dick, and when he says so Tyson grins, leans down and kisses him open-mouthed. Gabe can taste himself on Tyson’s tongue, sharp and a little bitter, and he groans again and pulls away and bites at the tendons in Tyson’s neck. “You’re so fucking good at that, Tys, holy shit.” His voice is rough, like he’s the one who just sucked dick like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to do.

“Thanks,” Tyson says, voice proud and smug, and Gabe blinks his eyes open and looks up at him. Tyson is smiling gently, and when they make eye contact his smile gets bigger. “You okay?”

“I’m not sure,” Gabe says, and pulls Tyson back down to kiss him again. Tyson laughs against his mouth, loud and bright in the quiet duskiness of his bedroom, and Gabe wants to just stay here, suspended right in this moment forever. 

After a few more minutes of kissing, though, he flips them over, because Tyson is starting to squirm a little, and tugs down Tyson’s sweats. Tyson groans appreciatively when his dick is freed, his breath coming a little louder and faster, and Gabe looks at him lying there against the pillows, his cock pink and hard and leaking on his stomach, and then very carefully and deliberately leans down and kisses Tyson’s hip. He uses his teeth, just a little, and makes sure there’s a mark before he leans back. 

“Fuck,” Tyson mutters. “Can you please just - ”

“You said anything,” Gabe reminds him, his sights now set on Tyson’s chest. He leaves a bigger mark this time, just under Tyson’s nipple, and admires it a little once he’s finished. It’s already almost purple, and Tyson is panting.

“I didn’t think you’d be a maniac about it,” Tyson retorts, squirming again and arching his back shamelessly, and Gabe almost gives in. Instead, he pinches the back of Tyson’s arm and then pushes him flat against the bed, puts the last mark on the inside of his thigh, almost all the way up at the crease where his leg meets his body, kissing and sucking the patch of skin there until Tyson is shaking and whimpering. “Gonna - gonna feel that one,” he tells Gabe, voice unsteady, and Gabe almost groans out loud. “Every time I move, I - fuck.”

Gabe leans up and kisses Tyson on the mouth, waits until he feels Tyson relax just a little, and then he finally wraps his hand around Tyson’s cock and starts gently jerking him off. Tyson puts his hands on Gabe’s face, tangles his fingers in Gabe’s hair and kisses him desperately until he’s shaking again, gasping Gabe’s name and coming all over his stomach and Gabe’s hand. Gabe holds him through it, not letting go until Tyson’s breathing evens out, and then he only rolls away enough to grab a tissue from the bedside table and wipe up the mess. 

“Wow,” Tyson says finally, still sounding dazed.

“Mm,” Gabe agrees, leaning in and kissing him again. “Was it always like that?”

“Yes,” Tyson says. “But also no.”

Gabe raises his eyebrows.

“It was always better with you than anybody else,” Tyson admits. “But that was another level even for us. Reunion sex after fifteen years is really good, it turns out.”

“Yeah, it is,” Gabe says, tracing his fingers down Tyson’s chest and back up. “I love you. I - thank you.”

Tyson curls toward Gabe a little more, reaching for his hand and lacing their fingers together. “Mm, for what?”

“This,” Gabe says simply. “Loving me enough to not give up on me finding my way back.”

Tyson’s smile is brilliant and beautiful.

 

-

 

“Okay,” Tyson says, wrapping his arms around Gabe’s waist as they stand on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, waiting for the car that will take Gabe to the airport. “So you’re going back, you’re packing your shit and you’ll be back by… what, next week?” He smiles up at Gabe, who knows he’s joking, but he still feels a pang if guilt that he does have to leave like this. 

“I wish. I just committed to broadcasting this tournament next month, I feel like I should do it before I leave, and I’m supposed to coach one more game before the girls’ season ends, but I could maybe see if - ”

“Gabe,” Tyson says, squeezing him around the middle. Gabe stops talking. “Go take care of everything, take the time you need, I’m not trying to rush you out of Sweden. I’ll just miss you, that’s all.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Gabe says, his chest tight, so in love. “It won’t be that long. I’ll put some things in storage, pack and ship some other things back here, get the house ready to be rented, and wrap everything up at work. A month, maybe. Six weeks tops.”

“It’s okay,” Tyson says calmly. “However long it takes, I’ll be here when it’s done.”

Gabe leans in and kisses him, one thumb stroking Tyson’s cheekbone. It’s maybe a little much for being out in public in the middle of everything, but nobody really pays much attention. No one recognizes them. 

“Okay. Tell me again, what’re you going to do while I’m gone?” he asks, finally coming up for air. 

Tyson smiles. “Gabe, I’m going to miss you so much, I - ”

“Tys. Really.”

“Fine. I promise I’ll try to not work 12 hours every day.”

“Thank you,” Gabe says gently, holding Tyson’s face in both hands and kissing his mouth one more time, then his forehead. “Maybe take, like, one Saturday off.” 

Tyson laughs. “Let’s not get carried away.”

“A Sunday?” Gabe says hopefully, grinning. 

“Mmm.” Tyson considers it. “Maybe a Tuesday. I’ll save the weekends for when you’re back.”

Gabe just shakes his head, wraps his arm around Tyson’s shoulders in a tight hug as his taxi pulls up. “Don’t think I won’t ask your staff. They’re on my side, you know.”

“Yeah, you pain in the ass, I know,” Tyson says, but he’s smiling and he puts Gabe’s bag in the trunk, so Gabe doesn’t really take it to heart. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Gabe says, kissing him again, and “I’ll call you as soon as I land,” and “I’ll be back soon. I promise.” 

“You better,” Tyson says. “I know where you live.” He pauses. “EJ knows where you live, anyway, he’d give you up in a minute.” 

Gabe laughs, kisses Tyson one last time before he drags himself away and gets in the car. He waves, and presses himself against the window so that he can see Tyson as they drive away. He’s still there on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, watching as the car turns the corner and he slides out of sight. 

 

-

 

The first week back in Stockholm is hard, harder than Gabe expected; he sleeps and eats and hits the gym and FaceTimes with Anna and Oscar most nights, and tries not to give in to the aching in his chest and text Tyson nonstop.

The second week, he calls his lawyer and his realtor and starts making arrangements, a little at a time. He coaches two practices for the Sparks, just because he can. He gets packing boxes and bubble wrap and tape and a permanent marker, drags it all back to his house and starts sorting out the things that will go from the things that will stay for the renters. 

For the first time in a long time, he feels good.

Bea shows up after work on a Thursday, walks in the house without knocking and hugs him fiercely, wordlessly. When she finally lets him go, in lieu of a greeting she just says, “I can’t believe you’re leaving.”

“I have to,” Gabe says. “I… I owe him this.”

“I know,” she says. “You can’t ask him to leave the life he built by himself because he couldn’t build one with you.”

“Ouch,” Gabe mutters, dropping onto the couch. Bea’s right, of course, like she usually is, and her blunt truthfulness is nothing he isn’t used to. It still cuts deep, hearing it like that. 

“You’re doing the right thing,” Bea acknowledges, sitting down next to him. “It’s Tyson. There is no other choice for you. I just… I feel like I just got you back here, and now you’re gone again.”

“I’m sorry,” Gabe says, so appreciative of how she understands the situation, how he feels. “First the kids, now me.” He scrubs his hands over his face. “You know, if I’d just - been with him in the first place maybe we’d all live here. Maybe he would’ve opened a restaurant here.”

“Or maybe you would’ve moved to Vancouver in the first place and never lived here at all,” Bea counters. She draws her knees up to her chest, curls her toes over the edge of the couch cushion. “Maybe the silver lining of you fucking it all up is that you did get to live here for awhile.”

Gabe sighs.

“Maybe this is how it was supposed to happen,” Bea says. “I don’t know why, but maybe. And either way, it’s how it happened, and there’s no changing it, and there’s no point in beating yourself up over it.” She shrugs. “I’ll just miss you. And Anna and Oscar.”

“We’ll miss you too,” Gabe says, his throat tight. “Maybe we’ll still come back for summers, if I can pry Tyson away from the restaurant.”

“Don’t push him too hard,” she tells him softly. “He’s been on his own for a long time. Give him time to get used to this. Give _yourself_ time to get used to it.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it,” Gabe says honestly. Twice since he’s been back he’s woken up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, shaken awake by a dream that their reconciliation was actually the dream, that none of it happened at all. Both times he had to drink a glass of water and take some deep breaths and FaceTime Tyson at work before he could sleep again.

He tells Bea as much, and she listens calmly and then sweeps her hair over one shoulder and says, “Can I give you some advice?”

“Can I say no?” Gabe asks, half joking.

“No. Thank you for understanding. I think it would be good and important to consider couples therapy,” she tells him gently. “And I think if you went on your own too, even better.”

Gabe considers this.

“You’ve been through so much, both of you, separately and together,” Bea says. “It would help, to have someone guiding you as you put the pieces back together.” When Gabe doesn’t say anything, she adds, “Therapy doesn’t have to only be a possible cure you try once something needs to be fixed. It can be preventative care, too.”

“You’re right,” Gabe agrees. “It’s probably a good idea.”

“I just want you to be happy again,” Bea tells him. “Tyson, too. If you’re going to leave, then…” She pauses, sighs. “I want it to work out for you.” 

“Thank you,” Gabe says. He puts his arm around her and they sit there for awhile before he clears his throat, leans forward. “Want to help me pack?”

“I’ll label the boxes,” Bea tells him.

 

-

 

The weeks pass excruciatingly slowly; the tournament comes and goes, the season wraps up for the Sparks, and Gabe is still waiting for the last of the details to come through. Waiting for the rental agreement, waiting for his lawyer to call, just waiting. His life is packed into boxes that are stacked in the front hallway, has been for awhile now, just waiting to get the okay before being shipped. 

Gabe finally gets the call he’s been waiting for on a Wednesday morning two and a half months after leaving Vancouver, and he calls Tyson the instant he hangs up with his lawyer; it’s 11:30 PM there, not too late to call. Tyson picks up the FaceTime request looking guilty, and Gabe immediately realizes why.

“Are you still at the restaurant?”

“No,” Tyson says, even though he obviously is. “This is a green screen.”

Gabe tries not to smile. “Tyson. Go home.”

“I’m almost done!” Tyson argues. In the background Gabe hears someone say “he’s been saying that for over an hour now,” and when Tyson flips the phone screen Hailey comes into view.

“Hi, Hailey,” Gabe says. “When did he get to work today?”

“Well, I got here at three,” she says. “But Stephanie worked lunch today, and she told me that he came in around 11. Which sounds about right, that’s usually when he comes in.”

“You’re not supposed to tell on me,” Tyson says, snottily, from off camera. “I’m your boss.”

“Does he need to still be there?” Gabe asks, as they both ignore Tyson.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Hailey says. “I’ve been telling him to go since ten. Tonight’s quiet, he’s just looking at the expense reports.”

“Tyson,” Gabe says, and Tyson flips the screen back to himself. He looks sheepish. “Please go home.”

“Okay,” Tyson relents. “Let me call you back in five minutes.”

“Thank you,” Gabe says gently, hangs up and waits. Tyson ends up needing closer to 15 minutes to call him back, but when the call connects this time, Gabe can see that he’s in the kitchen at home.

“I know!” Tyson says, before Gabe can say a word. “I know, I promised, I’m sorry, the time just gets away from me.”

“Except for how Hailey said you’d been looking at expense reports for the last hour and a half,” Gabe chides gently. “You know I’m not mad at you, though, right? I just hate that you’re there for so long if you don’t need to be.”

“I know,” Tyson says. “I’m trying. Remember Thursday last week? I took an actual break and I went home after only ten hours. Hey.” He flips off the kitchen light and heads down the hallway to the bedroom. “Did you call for something specific?”

“Yeah,” Gabe says, and now he can’t keep the smile off his face. “My lawyer called. Everything’s set.”

“Oh my god, _finally_ ,” Tyson says, his face lighting up. “Get the next flight. Go to the airport now, c’mon, what are you waiting for?”

“My mom wants one more dinner with everyone this weekend,” Gabe tells him. “There’s a flight on Monday, I’ll get in around 8 PM.”

“Book it,” Tyson says firmly. “Send me the details, because I’m going to pick you up.”

“Okay,” Gabe says. “I’ll ship the boxes today.”

“Okay,” Tyson repeats, smiling. “Can’t wait for you to be here.”

“Me too,” Gabe says. He leans against the counter and drinks his coffee and quietly waits as Tyson gets ready for bed and settles in, yawning.

“I’d talk longer, but I’m tired,” Tyson says. “Sorry that I’m not very entertaining tonight.” He yawns again, widely.

“Don’t work 12 hour days,” Gabe says. “That might help with the whole ‘being tired’ thing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tyson says. “What are you, a sleep doctor? What’s next, ‘go to sleep and wake up at the same time every day’? Incredible advice, Dr. Landeskog, really, thank you so mu - ”

“You’re such an ass,” Gabe says, through laughter. “Jesus. Here I am, just _caring_ about you, and - ”

“I know,” Tyson says, still laughing too, taking a breath and calming down. “Thank you. Really. I get enough sleep, mostly.” He yawns for a third time, rubs at his eyes. “You caring means a lot.”

“Get used to it,” Gabe says. “I’m gonna care about you, like, way too much for the rest of my life.” He hides behind his coffee mug as soon as he says it, feeling nervous and exposed and self-conscious, even though he knows Tyson knows this.

Tyson blinks, a smile creeping across his face. “Looking forward to it.” They smile at each other softly through the phone for a minute or two, and then finally Tyson sighs, fluffs the pillow underneath his head. “Okay. Some of us have to sleep, and some of us have to go mail all their possessions to their boyfriend’s apartment. Unless you’re gonna stay on the phone and watch me fall asleep like a weirdo again.”

“That was _one time_ ,” Gabe says automatically. “Also, hey, that’s not what happened! You fell asleep during our conversation!” Tyson’s laughing at him, and Gabe knows he was just taunted and fell for it. “Whatever. Go to sleep. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Tyson says. Gabe doesn’t think hearing it will ever get old.

 

-

 

The flight from Stockholm has never felt so long, and by the time Gabe staggers out of Immigration to find Tyson waiting in front of the International Arrivals baggage claim, he feels like death warmed over. It’s 5 AM in Stockholm and he couldn’t sleep on the plane at all, his stomach tangled up with nerves and worry about nothing in particular, but as soon as he sees Tyson, the knots unravel themselves easy as anything.

“You look like shit,” Tyson says as he approaches, not unkindly; he’s already reaching out and Gabe just goes, drops his face into the curve of Tyson’s neck as Tyson wraps him up in his arms. “Hi. You’re here.”

“Long flight,” Gabe mutters into Tyson’s hair, bringing his arms up around Tyson to hug him back after a minute or two of just letting himself be held. “Yeah, finally.”

“It’s about goddamn time,” Tyson says, squeezing the back of his neck; Gabe laughs, a small wet noise that makes him realize he’s teared up. When Tyson leans back, his eyes are suspiciously red too. “Let’s never do that again, eh?”

“It was a long few months,” Gabe agrees, but Tyson is shaking his head, a small smile on his face. 

“I meant the last fifteen years,” he says, but his eyes are bright, his voice light, and if Gabe hadn’t been sure before, he would know now they’re going to be okay.

“I promise,” he says anyway, and Tyson takes his hand. 

“I know. Let’s get your shit and go home.”

 _Home_ , Gabe thinks, letting the sound of Tyson dramatically guessing how many suitcases he needed for all his clothes wash over him, focusing on nothing but the warmth of his hand. Yeah, that sounds right.

**Author's Note:**

> if you’re interested, i have a very short [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/ambiguousreason/playlist/4vM1D6d9v5dTKtxSID1oLv) of the songs that inspired me to write and/or remind me of this fic! i also have a ton of headcanons that i’m always interested in talking about, mostly really gratuitous post-fic stuff with the kids and their lives together, so if that’s your jam hit me up in the comments or on twitter.


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